


A single man of good fortune

by Teland



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bad Parenting, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Happy Ending, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Romance, Rooftop Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 35
Words: 266,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: "In some ways, I'm *still* studying sexuality -- especially since my own has begun to develop in rather surprising ways."Or: The one where Bruce has *actual* Dissociative Identity Disorder. Among other problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_Jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Jack/gifts).



> I first posted this story a little over seven years ago -- as a "drawer-fic". I usually save that appellation for stories I consider to be too chan-ish to go on my regular archive, which this one is not, but... well, for a long time I thought I might try to file the serial numbers off this one and sell it. 
> 
> In the end, though, after a great *deal* of thought, I've decided that it would break my heart to make the changes that would be necessary to make this monster marketable. 
> 
> Spoilers/Timeline: Welladay. Some vague mentions of old -- decades-old -- storylines in decidedly AU-ized ways. Takes place during Year Three. 
> 
> Author's Note: Mildred's bunny to the *core*. Don't let her deny it. 
> 
> Acknowledgments: Much love to Mildred, Jack, ShadowValkyrie, and KingNorth for audiencing, encouragement and, of course, screaming.

Her name is Selina Kyle. 

She is twenty-seven years old. She graduated near the top of her class at St. Anthony's -- a very good parochial high school near the north of the state. 

She moved to Gotham when she was eighteen, but didn't linger. 

She traveled the world at much the same -- 

Much the same time -- 

Her name is Selina Kyle, and the Fox has caught her again. There's a scatter of diamonds like cracked starlight on the roof behind them -- 

Her name is Selina Kyle, and her cries are shameless, utterly and wholly -- 

The *Fox* has caught her, not Bruce, and so he has to -- 

The Fox is smiling. 

The Fox often does when she is bent over beneath him. 

So tight. So tight and hot -- 

Slick with -- with molten *fire* -- 

"*Harder*!" 

The *Fox* -- not Bruce -- bites down with his sharpest teeth -- Selina's throat will be marked. 

Beautiful Selina. Perfect and terrible *Selina* -- 

"Oh, *fuck* --" 

"*Yes*," and this is the danger, this is always the danger, this is -- 

The Fox is losing cohesion. There is sweat beneath his tied-on mask and armored skullcap. There is sweat in the glue of his perfect mustache -- making it itch. There is sweat beneath his silk and armor, and he is only a man -- 

A man with silk trousers Zorro would be proud of puddled around his ankles -- 

"Fox, oh, *Fox* --" 

"Nnh -- *Catwoman* --" 

She growls and laughs -- "You know who -- who I *am* -- *ahn* --" 

Easy to catch her wrists and press them to the stone of the gargoyle, to shift his angle of approach, of thrust, of *take* --

And now she is yowling for him, distracting him enough that he can think, driving him enough that he can *move*, or -- 

Bruce Wayne could never have this. 

Bruce has never -- never tickled strong thighs with a carefully crafted mustache. 

Bruce has never slipped out like this -- 

Oh, just like this -- 

"No -- oh --" And she growls again when he presses against her tight -- 

Tight little *hole* -- 

Bruce would say *anus*, Bruce would want to slow down, take care, make *love* -- 

The Fox doesn't get to have that. The Fox is alive, so alive with every moment, every clench, every *cry* -- 

"Fox, you -- you *bastard* --" 

And they laugh together -- 

(Harvey. Harvey would --) 

They *rut*, and the Fox's fingers *used* to be too clumsy for this part, but Selina had taught him well. Well enough that he can clutch her wrists in one hand and use the other -- *slickly* gauntleted -- to manipulate -- 

No. To *play* with her clit, to *fuck* her -- her *pussy* -- 

He can't hold on to -- 

He can't hold on. He's an impostor in the clothes of a hero, a boy pretending to be a man -- 

"Fuck me, *fuck* me --" 

"*Catwoman*," and this time it's a roar -- the same one that comes out every time he tries to hide from himself, from the encroaching rush -- 

She feels so *good*, and even Harvey hadn't felt better in this moment, hadn't felt hotter or tighter or more *welcoming* -- 

The way she cries *out* -- 

It's the wrong name, now, but she -- 

Oh, *Selina* -- 

St. Anthony's -- 

Twenty-seven -- 

Gotham -- 

Bruce *takes* her, thrusting in and in and allowing himself the moans which make this even sweeter, more perfect -- 

"Oh -- oh, *yeah*, Fox --" 

Not that, not -- but he can groan for it, and tell her that way. He can release her slim, beautiful wrists and stroke her body, her well-muscled *acrobat's* body -- and how much had he learned solely by watching her? 

Watching her *move* -- 

And right now, under Bruce's hands she is writhing and grinding, she is clawing *sparks* off the stone and showing her teeth, her perfectly sharp teeth -- 

Sharper than the *Fox's*, better because he knows from a carefully-aimed strike that hers are real. The prosthetic teeth the Fox uses to hide his perfectly average dentition are excellent, but still go flying when he takes a kick -- 

And he's grunting for the feel of Selina's claws in his thigh. He -- "Bad girl," he says, in something far too close to his own voice, something -- 

Her purr is a *question* -- 

And so Bruce forces himself to stop stroking her body and grips the back of her neck again -- 

"*Fuck* me --" 

And he does just that, giving up and giving in to the fantasies. Here, he is taking her while they gaze into each other's eyes. 

Here, he is suckling her heavy breasts while she pushes her deft fingers through his hair -- his *real* hair, not the fox-fur-red hair of his false mustache and sideburns, or even the faintly *different* shade of reddish-orange hair he'd acquired to line the inside of his scarf. 

No, like this, their black hair winds together, and perhaps Bruce has grown it longer, perhaps -- 

But wouldn't it take time to convince her that they belonged together? 

Bruce could *use* that time to grow his hair, to -- 

Oh, to kneel, and lick her fluids - 

The juices the Fox uses so *cavalierly* -- 

That Selina *allows* him to use, and why can't she see? Why -- 

And now he's growling and thrusting harder, now she's gripping the gargoyle as if she thinks he'll take her so roughly they'll fly off the *roof*. She doesn't *trust* him -- 

She doesn't *love* him -- 

"Catwoman. *Now*." 

She gasps another cry -- and begins to squeeze him *viciously* with her internal muscles, to -- to *milk* him -- 

("Cats looove milk, Foxy...") 

Over and over -- 

("Don't you wanna see me lick some up...?") 

Bruce grips her lushly rounded hips and gives *in*, and the world is bright and wheeling, the city is scattered and *reeling* -- 

No, that's him, this moment -- 

Bruce *shouts* -- 

And the last thing he sees before orgasm takes his vision is Selina's pained and lustful *wince*. It makes him gasp and *almost* negate -- 

But he can't keep from spending himself inside her, from filling the carefully generic -- and equally carefully *checked* -- condom with his semen. There have been times when Selina has performed fellatio on him, and then it had been a *struggle* to insist upon a condom -- 

Her beautiful, wicked *mouth* -- 

He must be careful, in all things. 

Even the *Fox's* freedom has limits... and Bruce Wayne has no freedom, at all. 

It makes him groan as he comes back to himself, makes him shudder and *grip* at her -- had she achieved orgasm? 

The *Fox* would know -- 

But she's panting and shivering, clenching -- ah, she's clenching too randomly to have regained her equilibrium. No orgasm, then. Bruce strokes down her spine to gain her attention and growls out "*breathe*."

She gasps -- 

Laughs -- 

And does it, allowing Bruce to pull out and tie off the condom. For the seventh time -- and their eighth meeting -- Bruce resists the urge to toss the thing out of sight, instead tucking it in the pocket of the sash he reserves for just this. 

And then he pulls his gauntlet off. 

And then -- oh, the fantasy of her somehow knowing him by his calluses, the fantasy of her attending *another* of Mother's Foundation galas and seeking him out for more than a dance and a tease -- 

_I know you_ , she'll say, and smile -- 

"*Fox* --" 

_You belong to *me* now_ , she'll say, and take him by the hand -- 

The necktie -- 

The *penis* --

And it's the sweetest and easiest thing in the world to stimulate her clitoris with two fingers while *taking* her vagina with his thumb. She's still so wet, still so -- 

"*Nngh*, fuck, *please* --" 

The Fox would say -- "Please *what*, puss...?" 

She growls and tosses her hair --

She growls again and turns to *smile* at him -- 

Bruce presses *firmly* -- 

And her mouth seems almost to *fall* open -- shock and pleasure and... pleasurable discomfort? He wants to tell her that she teaches him with every moment. 

He wants to *thank* her, because even watching Harvey with his fiancée Gilda hasn't been this wonderfully *educational*. He opens his mouth -- 

"Come for me," the Fox whisper-growls through Bruce's mouth -- 

And her cries become sharp and deadly things, loud and *powerful* things, worth infinitely more than the diamonds caught in the treads of his boots. Bruce grips her hip with his free hand and holds her still -- 

"*Ah* --" 

"*Now*." 

"*Yes* -- oh, fuck, *yes* --" And she screams, screams for the touch and words and *force* of the Fox -- 

The Fox -- 

The Fox takes everything as his due, even the Catwoman's biting kisses as she fixes her clothes -- 

Even the chance to grope her breasts through her excitingly purple uniform to make sure she had *only* taken three of the best diamonds back. 

She scowls at him when he rubs her nipples through her fascinatingly well-designed brassiere. 

The Fox smiles. "Until we meet again," he says, and leaps backwards off the roof. 

He has more of the city to take.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce doesn't think he'll ever know why Alfred had chosen to follow him into Gotham proper, leaving Mother and Father to find a new chef and valet. Alfred had helped with that task, of course, and Thea has been a wonderful employee, but Father never misses an opportunity to ask Bruce if he had found anyone 'better-suited to his age.' It's terribly guilt-inducing on a number of levels -- the Waynes have been served by members of Alfred's family for three generations, and Father had fully expected to die under Alfred's care -- but the truth is...

"An early night, sir?" 

Bruce smiles somewhat tightly. It's hard to be Bruce Wayne *and* the Fox, but that's just what's necessary in this place, the place he had made with Alfred's help. "A quiet night, Alfred," Bruce says, and does his best to strip off the Fox without either undue haste or painful hesitation. 

The truth is, much of this would've been impossible without Alfred's help. *Bruce* never would've thought of apprenticing himself at a barber shop in Ireland during his travels in order to collect what will -- hopefully -- be a lifetime supply of reddish-orange hair, nor would he have known how to pitch his voice in ways that make Selina purr -- 

No, not that. 

Not now -- 

"Hmph," and Alfred raises a pointed eyebrow... for the slash in Bruce's trousers. 

Bruce smiles ruefully and sprays on the solvent he'd created which dissolves his mustache and sideburn glue in seconds. "A *mostly* quiet night, Alfred." 

Alfred... twinkles at him. "Indeed, sir...?" 

Bruce blinks and peels off the mustache carefully. "Alfred?" 

Alfred hums and walks briskly to the bulky and incredibly expensive supercomputer, types briefly -- 

And Selina's picture fills the middle monitor. The image has no color and little enough life -- 

But, somehow, even with no colors others than a battleship grey and a somewhat sickly green, her eyes are alive. The Fox had taken that picture while leaning over a crumbling balustrade of a building opposite a small and up-and-coming gallery. 

It had been less than sixteen hours since he'd first met her at Mother's party. 

It had been... beautiful. 

The other two monitors are filled with every last crumb of information Bruce had found about her from sources fair and foul. The *best* source of information had been a fence named Oatley who had been in business for so long and so *quietly* that the Fox had chosen to allow him to continue. 

The Fox had never regretted that decision, for all that it made Bruce more than a little *uneasy* -- 

The uneasiness had been a wonderful way to prepare for Selina. Still -- 

"She's a criminal, Alfred." 

"Truly, sir? I never would have guessed. Certainly this detailed list of her crimes provided no clues whatsoever." 

Bruce grits his teeth -- and stops. He is not upset with Alfred, even though he can be quite sharp, at times. 

The Fox finds Alfred educational, as well. 

Alfred sighs quietly. "Sir." 

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce pulls off the scarf and the thinly armored skullcap and uses it as an excuse not to look at the man. Bruce suspects what he's going to say. 

"Far be it from me to pry --" 

"Truly, Alfred?" Oh -- that was a mistake. Bruce looks up to apologize -- 

But Alfred is raising an eyebrow at him. It's very high, and it's the *left* eyebrow -- 

"Please go on, Alfred. I didn't mean to interrupt." 

A *brief* twinkle -- and Alfred clears his throat. "It has not escaped my attention that any number of young, comely, and eligible women... have escaped your attention." 

"Alfred, they're all horribly shallow creatures --" 

Alfred waves a hand. "I do not expect you to marry a woman whose greatest concern is what color frock to wear to which interminable party, sir. I do, however, expect you to *look* as though you wish to marry *one* such woman." 

Bruce frowns. "I don't understand." 

Alfred raises an eyebrow again -- but it's not very high, and it's the right. "Indeed, sir? All right, I shall be plain. You lead a highly suspicious life." 

"But... I go to work at Wayne Enterprises." 

"Occasionally." 

"And I attend all of Mother's parties." 

"Just so." 

"And -- sometimes Harvey invites me to dinner, or to a show --" 

"With his *fiancée*, sir. You will be *thirty* next year, Master Bruce, and you have yet to so much as have your photograph taken with a woman who isn't either your mother or your brother's fiancée." 

And that... is uncomfortably true. Very uncomfortably. "It's only... how would I go about *finding* a woman who wouldn't mind if I disappeared for hours at a time or... or couldn't make love without leaving a layer of clothing on over my cuts and bruises?" 

"Fall down a flight of stairs, sir." 

"Alfred, there's no call to be --" 

"For your *cover*, sir. Become... notably clumsy." 

"You mean... in public?" 

"Hence the 'notably,' sir." 

Bruce frowns again. "I don't think Father would approve --" 

"Of your soon-to-be-growing reputation as a discreet homosexual?" 

Bruce winces. "Alfred, you know I --" 

Alfred holds up one gloved hand. "Master Bruce, I considered it one of my duties to help you and Master Harvey share... that which you shared, and to do it discreetly. However, you are an adult now, and, more to the point, you have a vast and dangerous secret to keep. If you persist on behaving in mysterious ways --" 

Bruce opens his mouth -- 

"Master Bruce, your choosing to behave as though there is *no* excitement in your life whatsoever is, in fact, *quite* mysterious." Alfred sighs. "I did not wish to have to do this, but, please, look over the file I have left on your worktable." 

Bruce doesn't want to do that. There are... there are remarkably few things he wishes to do *less* than to look through the thick and ominous file he had somehow missed when he'd come in. But. 

He does so, and -- there it is. His photograph with question marks. His photograph next to pictures of women he'd endured speaking with for the sake of his Mother's reputation as the leading hostess in Gotham. 

Brief... brief *puff* pieces filled with speculation about his 'lifestyle.' 

And far, far too many photographs of him and Harvey -- though, of course, they call him Apollo for those pictures. And play up the *Greek* origin of that name. 

Bruce winces, sighs, and closes the file. "Has... has Harvey mentioned..." Bruce can't finish the sentence. He just -- can't. 

But Alfred is there with a strong hand on Bruce's shoulder. "He has not, sir. And I know you do not wish to make it necessary for him to do so." 

Bruce nods. "You... you believe I should approach Selina?" 

Alfred hums. "I cannot help but notice your lack of aversion to using her first name." 

Bruce *does* tend to refer to the various socialites who approach him with epithets such as 'the Barrington-Smythe woman' or 'the younger Miss Featheringstone.' The men are no better -- 

The men are often *worse* -- 

And Alfred has *also* undoubtedly noticed the state of Bruce's underwear on those nights when Selina has committed her crimes. "I. She showed no true interest in -- Bruce Wayne." 

Alfred taps his own perfectly neat mustache. "Perhaps -- just perhaps -- you will consider allowing your... daytime self a touch more panache?" 

"I don't want her to *suspect*, Alfred." 

"No...?" 

Bruce -- blushes. "I -- they're only fantasies. Fancies." 

Alfred squeezes Bruce's shoulder and then pushes lightly until Bruce looks up and turns to face him. "Master Bruce, I will not lie to you and say that all of your dreams will come true. I will, however, tell you with perfect honesty and surety that *none* of your dreams will come true if you do nothing to help them along." 

Bruce swallows and nods. "All... all right, Alfred. I'll think about --" 

"Bruce Wayne has already sent her a stand of orchids... and a small, tasteful cat figurine in onyx." 

"*Alfred* --" 

Alfred pats Bruce's shoulder. "Trip and fall on your face when you meet her for lunch. You need not spill anything all over her or yourself, but consider acquiring a bruise." 

"But --" 

"And Master Bruce... *do* consider *lining* the pockets of your sash." 

Bruce coughs and winces. "I -- of course, Alfred. I'm sorry --" 

Alfred twinkles at him again. And that --

"Alfred... are you..." 

"Yes, Master Bruce?" 

Bruce frowns again -- no. He takes a deep breath. "Are you... proud of my relationship with Selina?" 

Alfred smiles then, and it makes him look both older than his forty-eight years and much, much younger. "Sir. I am *overjoyed* by your relationship with Miss Kyle." 

"But --" 

"Yes, she is a criminal. Yes, she has chosen to become romantically involved with a man she only knows as 'the Fox.' However, it is abundantly clear that you care deeply for her, and that is not something I have seen very often." 

"Only. Only Harvey has ever... made me feel that way. Something like that way." Though a part of his mind offers *Lex* -- 

("Brucie, you did *remember* that today was your birthday, didn't you?" 

"Yes, but --" 

"But nothing. Happy birthday." 

"I... thank you." 

A *snort*, and -- "You're welcome. Goodbye.")

And Lex had hung up. He isn't --

But Lex isn't really -- 

Lex has done terrible things, and they had never --

Of *course*, they had never -- no, Alfred is *speaking* -- 

"-- chose well with Master Harvey -- with hardly any time at all to come to know him -- and I believe you have chosen well once more. Time may prove both of us incorrect... but we will have taken the chance. Together." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Then... perhaps you'll help me think of things I could speak with her about?" 

Alfred smiles at him warmly. "Of course, sir. Now hurry up and finish changing. We have to get your adjusted measurements for the new trousers." 

"New trousers?" 

"*Yes*, Master Bruce. Ones which will stand *firm* against the depredations of even the sharpest claws." 

"Hm. You don't think that would make her more determined?" 

"I am *positive* that I haven't the faintest clue what you mean, sir," and Alfred claps twice. 

Bruce goes back to changing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Big guy, finally, what are you doing?" 

Bruce blinks and stares at the ceiling. It's white, though in this light it seems almost lemony. The light also suggests that it's no later than nine a.m. 

Harvey...

Harvey is a morning person. 

"Bruce? You there?" 

Bruce doesn't groan. Experience has taught him that that only encourages a part of Harvey which could almost be deemed *cruel*. "Yes," he says, and uses the Fox to add a little brightness -- 

"Whoa, whoa, that sounds like -- uh. You alone, big guy?" 

Perhaps... perhaps that was too much brightness. "Yes, Harv, sorry, I'm not truly awake." 

"But you'd *tell* me if you *weren't* alone, right?" 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Of course, Harv." 

"Heh. All right, then. Now how's about we find you a girl, starting around, say, noon today?" 

He'd been planning to *sleep* until noon -- wait, what? "You... want to go shopping for women with me?" 

"Big guy, we're not talking about that kind of neighborhood. Work with me, here." 

"Yes, Harv. I'm confused, Harv." 

Harvey sighs, and it's both long-suffering and powerfully *fond*. "Bruce... you kinda put the Gobi in 'dry spell.' You get what I'm saying here?" 

Bruce winces. Three *years* without Harvey in his arms, his bed -- "I just haven't --" Met the right person. Except. "Alfred has expressed a similar thought." 

"Oh, yeah? Gentleman's gentleman turning into a gentleman's gentlewingman?" 

The part of him which is the Fox wants to laugh for that, but -- "A what?" 

"Never mind. What did *he* say?" 

"Well... he's been encouraging me." 

Harvey is silent. 

Bruce closes his eyes -- 

"-- do *what*, big guy?" 

Bruce blinks himself awake again, licks his lips -- 

And loses himself to the memory of the first time Harvey had licked his mouth instead of simply kissing him. Harvey had lowered himself down on top of Bruce in Bruce's narrow bunk at Exeter -- 

Harvey had *shaken* when their groins had touched -- 

("Big guy... you feel... you feel *real* good..." 

"Harv --" 

"Let me. Just -- let me?" 

"Yes --") 

And Harvey had used his tongue like a weapon of flesh, like -- 

Harvey had left Bruce's mouth wet and *needy* -- 

"-- *again*, are you?" 

"Sorry, Harv, long night," Bruce says without thinking -- 

"Hey, hey, that's promising! What were you *doing*? What's Alfred encouraging?" 

Bruce wakes himself up enough to quickly scan through his thoughts in search of things which can't ever be said to the Gotham City District Attorney, whether or not they could be said to his brother -- 

His beautiful, caring brother -- 

His brother whom he can't *touch* anymore -- 

"I -- met someone at Mother's last party. We... spoke last night." 

"Oh, hey, that's *great*! That was... uh... the Foundation gala for the new sculpture garden, right?" 

"Yes, Harv --" 

"And *you* had actually whined to me about my not being able to make it." 

"I don't think I was *whining* --" 

"No, no, you don't whine, it's true. You just give me the damned puppy eyes. Like *anyone* can stand up to that." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "If I recall correctly, *you* manage to stand up to that quite often, Harv." 

"Ah... heh. Okay. Brakes on now." 

Bruce closes his eyes and dreams of the salt that gathered at the corners of Harvey's eyes whenever Bruce took him -- "Of course, Harv." 

"Sorry, just --" 

"I know, Harv." 

"It's part of the *problem* --" 

"I know -- I know I've leaned on you too much --" 

"No, big guy, don't think that way, don't *ever* think that way. I think we've proven that we don't need -- that in order to be close, right?" 

"Brother..." 

"Yeah, *exactly*," Harvey says, and sighs. "So what do I gotta do to get a name outta you?" And Harvey is almost certainly using his more 'Gotham' voice as a distraction... 

It works well in court, too. Impressively well, considering the fact that Harvey took the Wayne name when he was adopted... 

When they became brothers in *truth* -- 

"Her name is Selina. Selina Kyle." 

"Sounds *slinky*. Sure you're up for that, big guy?" 

In his mind, Selina is wearing a cocktail dress in the precise shade of purple she favors for her uniform. She is crawling across the parquet in his parents' sun room, and she is licking her lush, full lips -- "She's -- very beautiful." 

"Uh, huh. And?" 

Bruce blinks. "You... usually make me speak more about a given woman's physical attributes." 

"Everybody's gotta learn sometime, big guy. I *know* that's not what you see in her." 

Selina's eyes are the green of a healthy fern, and, as near as Bruce can tell, only lose their sharpness when she has been taken *roughly* for a certain amount of time.

Enough time for her to grow slick with her own fluids, slick almost to the *knees*. He wants to taste her there.

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I am *human*, Harv." 

"Uh, huh, sure you are. What is it about her? She a reader? An activist of some kind? An artist?" 

I believe she was planning to steal the ancient chryselephantine sculpture of Bastet. If she isn't still planning to do it even as we speak. "I believe she's more of a collector than any of those other things. She has... a wonderful eye." 

"Hunh. Sounds kinda like a critic, big guy." 

("Is that all you have for me, Fox...? Try again.") 

Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, searching for the scent of her perfume, or perhaps the scent of her musk -- 

But of course he'd showered before bed. "She... makes me work, to a certain extent, Harv. I can't simply... drift through our conversations." 

"Good! You do too damned much of that as it is. So... when are you gonna see her?" And there's something in his voice... 

Something almost *cautious*. "Harv...?" 

"Nothing, big guy, nothing --" 

"Harv --" 

Harvey sighs. "You've told me next to nothing about her -- and about infinitely more than you've told me about any other woman. *Ever*." 

"Sometimes..." She makes me think of you. "I like her, Harv. Even though --" She's a criminal. "I like her." 

"'Even though?' What is it?" 

Bruce blinks. Is that -- "Is this a cross-examination, Harv?" 

Harvey breathes a laugh. "It can be. But we both know you wouldn't be the only one up on the stand." 

"I -- miss you." 

The laugh becomes another sigh. "Just tell me you don't miss me so much that you'd pick up some -- some -- I don't even know. She's beautiful?" 

"Yes, Harv." 

"And smart?" 

"Exceedingly --" 

"And -- kind?" 

Claws for his thigh. 

A bite for his lip. 

A whip -- 

But she hasn't turned it on *him*, yet. 

"Big guy?" 

"In -- her way --" 

"Aw, big guy --" 

"I'm all right, Harv. I don't -- I don't expect her to be *you*." No one could be -- 

"But you need a *nice* girl. A *good* girl. And -- this is me reminding you of how I *never* tried to hook you up with one of those society sharks." 

"Yes, Harv, and I appreciate that --" 

"It *wasn't* just me wanting you all to myself --" 

"I wish it had been." 

Harvey sucks in a sharp breath -- 

"I'm sorry." 

"I was -- I was making a *joke* --" 

"Yes, Harv, I know. I'm -- not at my best." 

The strange thing -- or, perhaps, the *filial* thing -- is that Bruce is positive that he can *feel* Harvey frowning. That -- 

"I... I did have a good night last night." Bleeding on the jeweler's floor *while* being intimidating had even stopped the man's bleating about the three missing stones. 

Of course, Bruce had had to clean up the blood spatter with his bleach-wipes -- 

And then retire to a rooftop to re-bandage the wound -- 

But he had managed to break up a mugging and *two* armed robberies by lesser lights than Selina -- 

And Harvey is still quiet. "I'm being serious, Harv." 

"Serious like maybe I shouldn't be waking you up this early?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Something like that." 

"Selina, hunh?" 

"Yes, Harv. She is... well. I hope we can all get together soon," Bruce tries -- 

And then interrogates himself about the *honesty* of that statement -- 

And then *winces* -- 

"Yeah? She's that kinda girl?" 

Bruce tries a rueful laugh, instead of any more speech. 

"Heh, I see. You're *hoping* that she's that kinda girl."

Sometimes you make Gilda make similar sounds.... Bruce sighs. "Yes. I -- well. It may turn out that I've bored her to tears --" 

"Not if you let any of your *real* you out." 

But what *is* that, precisely...? "Harv." 

"You know what I mean, big guy." 

Not even remotely, Harv. I never did. Sometimes I think I never will, not without you to guide me, to lead me and *love* me, please -- "I -- I'll try, Harv." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes. She... I enjoy nearly everything about her." 

"But... there's already something you *don't* enjoy?" 

There's something I feel terribly *guilty* about enjoying -- hm. Does that sound sexual? Would it be... allowed? "I --" 

"All right, all right, I'll quit it with the third degree. For *now*." 

"All right, Harv. Do... do you still want to try to have lunch this afternoon? Perhaps... later this afternoon?" 

"Heh. Get *up*, you damned overgrown slug. I've got *one hour*, since I'll be in court from about forty-five seconds from now until twelve, and then back again at one-fifteen. It's not as big as that Moroni case Jacob took off me last year just as things were getting *good*, but it's still pretty --" 

"The Dockside Strangler." 

"So you *have* been paying attention. Nice. I can't say I'm happy that we had to count on the *Fox* to bring him in, but I'm *definitely* happy to have the bastard stewing in a cell a few floors down," and Harvey's smile is as audible as anything else. 

I want to kiss you again, Harv. I want to touch you while I'm doing it. I want to taste your *excitement*, and know that it's about *me* -- "Do you think you'll be able to --" 

"Put 'im away for life? No doubt, big guy. No doubt at *all* -- because a) he did it, b) everyone knows he did it, and c) I'm the best there is. You got that?" 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Yes, Harv. Perhaps I can stop in --" 

"Not a chance. The place'll be packed to the rafters with reporters, and every last one is gonna get my good side. This is it. This is my ticket. I *know* it." 

"Harv, I'll be behind you every step of the way." 

"I know you will, big guy. But first? Meet me for lunch. You know where." 

"Yes, Harv --" 

"And that's my cue," Harvey says, and snaps his fingers -- undoubtedly to catch the attention of his second chair, or one of the other people working as his aides for this case. The current District Attorney has been very giving with Harvey -- in every way save the one which matters to Harvey most. "All right, big guy. *Noon*." 

"Yes, Harv --" 

Harvey hangs up and Bruce sighs and promises himself an afternoon nap. For now, he gets up and goes to attempt to wake himself with another shower. 

Harvey has wanted only *one* thing since he's been a teenager, and that is the D.A.'s office. Jacob Morgenstern has been a fixture in the office since the late nineteen-sixties, and Harvey had known better than to attempt to take the office from him three years ago. 

However, with Morgenstern's wife ill and the man himself aging uncomfortably...

He could very well retire after taking some measure of the credit for Harvey's near-guaranteed victory in the Strangler case, and, after that, his seat will be wide open. 

And Harvey *will* be elected, and it will be everything he's dreamed. 

Bruce will make sure of it. 

Even if the Fox has to hand Harvey another spectacular case. But what? Gotham has been as quiet as it ever *gets* since the various revelations about the Strangler had made it in and then out of the papers. The only crimes currently getting anywhere near the front page -- 

("*Harder*!") 

Bruce blushes and watches, helplessly, as his penis rises for the *hint* of a memory. Selina wears Chanel no. 5 when she's working. 

Bruce prefers Mother's no. 22, but has been forced to accept that the scent had not gained the cachet of timelessness no. 5 had, and is thus considered hopelessly old-fashioned for his generation. 

Selina had worn Sylph to Mother's party. It had brought out the scent of oranges in her long, thick hair... 

Bruce lets his head fall back and touches himself. Just -- touches. He splays his fingers against his chest and his wounded thigh. 

He strokes down and up. 

He strokes from side to side. 

He lingers on his scars and presses lightly on his contusions. He breathes in steam -- 

He turns the water hotter -- just enough to sting, to make him hiss and *want* to draw back -- 

He wants Selina to burn him with her touch. He wants her to... to take her *time* -- 

How is he supposed to be anyone worth speaking with without using the Fox? 

What if she *never* wants to take her time? There are women like that -- Harvey had told Bruce so years ago, and Bruce's own observations have held that up. The fact that those observations were all passive... 

What if he *isn't* a good lover for a woman? He had brought Harvey to orgasm time and again, but Harvey loved Bruce for who he was long before they'd ever touched. According to Harvey -- and any number of other sources both literary and base -- sexuality always gains in intensity when there is love present. 

Does he want Selina to love him? 

It would be... 

It would be far more than simply pleasant. It would be -- 

To see her smile as brightly as she had at the party, but with *truth* in her eyes -- 

To hear her laugh with *delight*... 

Bruce moans and takes himself in hand, stroking slowly and trying to assure his penis that there is an anus -- 

No, a vagina. So far, Selina has *always* achieved orgasm without extra manipulation when Bruce has stayed in her vagina. It's slick there, hot and -- and *soft* -- 

Bruce moans and clutches the wall with his free hand -- no. 

Bruce brings his index finger up until he can rest it on his upper lip... and then he smiles, letting the heat into it, the *Fox* into it. 

As if by magic, the steam at his feet seems to coil and *smoke* itself into Selina's lush and muscular shape. Here are her rose-tipped breasts, hanging just enough to justify a shamelessly *vain* woman choosing to wear brassieres which feature more architectural utility than aesthetic beauty. 

There are her thickly powerful thighs, spread just so as she kneels. 

Here is her *mouth*, hot and filled with rough language, *teasing* language. 

"Hello, kitten," the Fox says, smiling that much more broadly. 

She takes him to task for the -- pet-name, not epithet. She scratches and *spits* -- 

"Ah-ah-ah," and the Fox coils a fist in her hair. "I think it's time you paid the piper." 

A calculating look -- 

A hint of a *pout* -- 

"*Don't* make me wait... kitten." 

She opens her mouth wide -- 

She shows her teeth, and Bruce's tongue wants to know how much time and effort had gone into making them as perfect as they are, Bruce's fingers want to probe and *touch* -- 

"Suck me -- no. Not --" Bruce takes a deep breath -- 

Bruce lets the Fox *growl* -- 

"*Suck* it." 

And she lunges for him, heedless of the grip on her hair, making even the Fox *want* to flinch -- 

He doesn't. He doesn't. 

He sinks deep -- 

("Just do me, big guy, just -- fucking *give* it to me --") 

He groans and he wants, he groans and he *aches* -- 

("Even if you fucking *hurt* me --") 

And her lips are even softer than Harvey's, her tongue so much *sharper*, sharp enough to cut -- 

He wants -- 

The Fox pulls out, hoping for and *getting* that questioning growl, that impatient *noise*. "Touch yourself -- no." 

He thinks. He thinks -- 

"Jerk yourself -- no." 

But what? 'Frig' is juvenile, 'wank' is too coarse -- 

Bruce and the Fox growl *together* -- 

"*Touch* yourself!" It's good enough, it gets the point across -- 

The phantom at his feet cups her breasts and presents them, blows a kiss through smeared lipstick -- 

No, she uses the best. It would take far rougher treatment to smear it. Alfred had also taught him much about cosmetics.

She strokes her tightly-muscled abdomen, her sides and shoulders, her cheeks and throat -- 

"Don't -- waste my time, kitten," and maybe the Fox would gesture toward her vulva -- so tantalizingly *hidden* behind tights and, he knows now, specially tailored 'boy shorts.' 

They're somewhere between briefs and boxer shorts, and hug her curves beautifully. *Dramatically* -- 

"Take them off for me. Show me... how slick my kitten's getting." 

She pants and narrows her eyes in something like rage and something like *calculation* -- 

"You don't get your little friend back until you please -- until you make me happy, kitten." 

And maybe she would laugh at him, toss her hair -- 

And maybe she would laugh and try to *escape* -- the Fox's trousers and under-tights are designed to be slipped in and out of easily and quickly, but she *hasn't* tested that, yet -- 

Maybe she would *tease* him as she ran, as she *danced* across the rooftops --

Maybe he would tackle her again, grind against her round and generous -- ass -- 

"Is that how you want it, kitty-cat?" 

A growl, a curse -- 

"Better answer -- answer --" 

And Bruce is groaning too loudly, clutching himself too *tightly* as he ejaculates, one spurt after another after another. 

The Fox would have more *control* --

Perhaps he should be careful if she ever tries to escape. 

He wouldn't want the Fox to ever bore her. 

Bruce evens his breathing out with a meditation the Fox would never admit knowing, much less mastering. 

He washes himself thoroughly -- and promises his penis the repeat and continuation of that fantasy. 

He's not ready to try to make most of it real, but... some of it. 

Definitely some. Perhaps the tone of his voice, the conviction, the *entitled* hunger -- 

Bruce pinches the head of his penis when it threatens to rise again, but not for long enough for the pain to grow exciting. (It's a shorter length of time *each* time, and he's going to have to come up with something *new* --) 

He shaves thoroughly and neatly, and wonders -- 

Yes, the Fox would use a straight razor, too. Not one as new and sleek as Bruce's own, though. His would be pearl-handled and well-used. Perhaps an ivory handle? 

Selina, in the brief *conversation* she'd shared with Bruce Wayne, had mentioned supporting some few of the more respectable animal rights causes. While that may have been part of *her* cover, he will show care in his choices of gifts. And -- 

Perhaps he could take her to a vegetarian restaurant? Would Harvey -- 

Harvey wouldn't know a vegetarian restaurant if one collapsed on top of him. Hm. He'll ask Alfred. 

And Alfred, of course, is waiting for Bruce in the dining room next to Bruce's place at the table. The curtains are pulled back nearly all the way, and the light is blinding and harsh. This room was designed to be used at *night* -- hm. Alfred isn't usually so cruel. 

"You were expecting Harvey's call?" 

"It *has* been more than a week since the two of you have lunched together, Master Bruce." 

Bruce hums and nods. "I should learn to keep better track." 

"Hmph. You might simply allow yourself to continue to *coast* on the punctiliousness of those who surround you." 

"That would be easier, yes," Bruce says, and tucks into his meal -- Belgian waffles today, with a thin and crackling coating of sugar icing which, Bruce knows from experience, will be delicious enough to make him not care about the needless extra calories. Because Alfred knows him well, however, there is also a platter of unsweetened fruit and yogurt. Perhaps he'll keep himself to one waffle today. 

Perhaps -- 

The Fox would eat both, and burp to salute the chef. 

Alfred would slap him with one of his gloves. Alfred -- 

Alfred is staring at him. 

Bruce licks sugar off his lip. "I'll... definitely learn to keep better track?" 

"Very good, Master Bruce. Have you thought about how you wish to respond to Miss Kyle?" And Alfred flips over a small, old-fashioned message card which Bruce really ought to have noticed on the table. 

"I... as a matter of fact, I have not," Bruce says, and reaches for the card -- 

Alfred picks it up, holds it away, and looks pointedly at Bruce's plate. 

"Alfred --" 

Alfred narrows his eyes. 

Bruce eats. 

Alfred clears his throat. 

Bruce eats more slowly. He hasn't performed this badly at a meal in quite a long time. It's entirely possible that Alfred will make him stand in a corner with Emily Post again. The fact that he hasn't done that since a nine-year-old Bruce had brought in a live raccoon to share his tea doesn't make it less likely, ultimately -- 

And so Bruce makes a point of enjoying his food. It's not especially difficult. Alfred truly is one of the best chefs in the *state*, if not the country, and the fact that he expends his efforts solely for Bruce most of the time... 

Bruce eats more slowly, still, and keeps a weather eye on Alfred, who appears to be examining the fingers of one glove for dust or other debris, but could be planning anything at *all*. Hm. 

He *is* allowed to *speak*. "Alfred." 

"Yes, sir?" 

"What are your feelings on the vegetarian restaurants in the area?" 

Alfred blinks once. 

Bruce uses the pause to drink some of his freshly-squeezed orange juice -- 

"Are Miss Kyle's concerns moral or physical?" 

"Moral, I believe. She could have simply been building a more three-dimensional back-story for her cover." 

"All the more reason to choose in this direction. One of the finest such establishments is in the heart of the meat-packing district -- a bit of irony its young owners found they simply could not resist -- but I cannot recommend this restaurant, as, should her concerns prove sincere, she would be most nonplussed." 

Bruce nods. "The smell of blood never truly leaves that neighborhood." 

"Just so, sir, for all that it is there where one can find the most choice cuts of domestic beef." 

"Truly?" 

Alfred twinkles slightly. "Indeed, sir. As you might have guessed, I do not dress my best on my excursions there." 

Bruce smiles wryly. "The Fox has had cause to wish that *he* hadn't." 

"As have *I*, Master Bruce." 

"Ah... true." Bruce goes back to his waffles -- oh, he'd started the second. Maybe... 

He'll just eat half of it. 

"In any event, there is a perfectly adequate -- if somewhat desperately bohemian -- establishment on the lower West Side. The precise name escapes me at this moment, but I believe the Halliwells' chatelaine's daughter frequents it. I will make inquiries and return in due time," Alfred says, and turns to leave. 

"Oh -- I -- wait --" 

"Yes, Master Bruce?" 

Bruce starts to lick sugar off his lip again -- he uses the napkin. 

Alfred nods at him. 

"I... what... she responded? So quickly?" 

Alfred nods at the card, which he has returned to its place just beyond Bruce's comfortable reach. Which -- well. At least Alfred isn't doing the verbal equivalent of jabbing him with sharp sticks for the painfully obvious question. 

Bruce dutifully picks up the small bowl of yogurt -- it wasn't, truly, *physically* painful to turn away from the other half of the waffle -- and mixes in early blueberries and late apples. After he takes his first bite -- and has chewed and swallowed it properly -- "*How* did she respond? I -- by which I mean -- did she bring the card herself?" 

"No, Master Bruce." 

Bruce waits. 

Alfred brushes nonexistent dust from his lapel. 

Bruce *waits* -- 

And Alfred's smile is both minuscule and filled with as much potential evil as one of Selina's own. The thought is precisely as disturbing as it should be. 

Bruce surrenders. "Who did bring the card?" 

"A young woman -- a woman perhaps still in her teenage years -- with rather *exciting* hair and an apparent fondness for the color of artificially flavored key lime pie. She gave her name as 'Holly,' winked at me, and then rode off on her moped -- which she had ridden right up to the front door." 

"Oh, my." 

"Yes. I'm afraid your hopeful little postage stamp of a garden has been wounded badly. Perhaps even mortally." 

"I just thought it would be nice to plant something, Alfred." 

"Yes, and to tear up stonework which had been there for generations to do it; I remember *quite* well, Master Bruce." 

"I did *keep* the stonework." 

"Hmph." 

"It's going to be part of the sun room's décor!" 

"Ah, yes, the *sun* room. Which has been sheeted so long that the sheets themselves have begun to *yellow*." 

"It's -- I haven't had time to choose the rest of the décor, Alfred, and even once I do, I'll be expected to throw *parties*." Awful, awful parties full of awful *people*, and the prospect of avoiding those indefinitely had been part of what allowed him to move away from his parents so *easily* -- wait. "Additionally, it's not *my* fault that you open the blinds every day --"

"A *sun* room, Master Bruce, is meant to receive *sun*. Even when the Master refuses to acknowledge such a thing." 

Bruce eats more of his yogurt, and makes an effort not to do it poutily -- 

The effort is a failure, judging by the aggressive dusting Alfred is doing. The mirror may lose its glazing. 

And -- hm. 

Bruce sets the bowl down silently and reaches for the card -- 

Alfred looks at him. 

Bruce, instead, places more fruit in his bowl. "So... you've spoken to Father recently?" 

"Hmph. Your *mother* tells me that you seem to have forgotten how to use your telephone. It is quite a wonderful device, Master Bruce. I'm more than willing to instruct --" 

"All *right*, Alfred. I --" Bruce winces. Mother usually doesn't prod Alfred into prodding him. She's usually more --

More. 

Temperate, perhaps. "Do you think she'll be in this morning?" 

"I am sure I do not know --" 

"*Alfred*." 

Alfred's mustache twitches. Once. "Call. And. See." 

Bruce blows out a breath. "It wouldn't be so painful if Thea didn't insist on asking me about my love life *every* time I called." 

Alfred touches his upper lip with his tongue. "Think positively, Master Bruce. *This* time you have something to tell her." 

"You don't think that would lead to more questions?" 

"I *think*," Alfred says, and takes his watch from his pocket, "that you have one hour and twenty-three minutes to find out before we must leave so that you may watch Master Harvey eat execrable food whilst the two of you share cheerful, manly companionship." 

"And, presumably, I don't spend any time thinking of other definitions --" 

"Master Bruce. You *will* be attending Master Harvey's *wedding* just a few months from now. You will, in fact, have the care of the *rings*. I highly recommend keeping to *that* thought when other thoughts seek to crowd the forefront of your mind." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "As you say, Alfred," Bruce says, and stacks his dishes in order to carry them to the kitchen -- a right he had won after what had nearly been a pitched *battle*. Bruce is even allowed to wash them, now -- assuming there aren't other things Alfred believes he should be doing. 

Today is not a day his hands will smell like Eos dish detergent -- according to Alfred, the only dish detergent worth purchasing -- and so Bruce sets the dishes down neatly and retires to the study. 

At first, he had planned to decorate the room the way his father had decorated the one in the manor, but Alfred had pointed out that he *loathed* that room. Another painful discussion followed, but now his study is a marvel of pale stone and open *space*. 

The fireplace is faced in pink marble that had caused Harvey to give him a *look* -- 

Bruce had given the look right back, and had felt wonderful about that right up until Harvey had smiled *sadly* and shaken his head. He -- 

No. Not that right now. 

Now... 

Bruce sits in the chair -- the *comfortable* chair which doesn't *punish* Bruce for being even taller than his father -- nearest the phone and dials his mother's private line. 

She mostly uses it for vastly important Foundation business, so the likelihood of Thea picking up -- 

"Brucie! You *bad* boy!" 

"Good morning, Thea --" 

"What have you been up to, hmm? Or should I say *whom*....?" She giggles like a much, much younger woman. She does many things like a much, much younger woman, which is one of many reasons she makes Father... politely irritated. Father does everything politely.

She makes *Mother* giggle, however, so she will have a place with the Waynes for the rest of her natural life. Bruce pulls on a smile. "I have, indeed, met someone --" 

"OoooOOooooh! Tell me *who*! Wait, no, tell your *mother*!" And then there's the sound of the receiver hitting Mother's vanity table. The 'clunk' is quite distinctive. "Martha! Martha, it's *Bruce*!" 

Bruce waits -- 

"Oh, *hurry*, Martha --" 

"*Honestly*, Thea, I was in the *bathroom*. What *is* it?" 

There are two -- equally distinctive -- *thudding* noises -- Thea has jumped. Twice. 

"He says he's *met* someone!" 

Mother actually *gasps* -- 

And Bruce blushes painfully enough that he hopes Alfred will need at least ten minutes to track down information about that other vegetarian restaurant. Still, he can *prepare* --

"Bruce! How *are* you?" 

"I'm well, Mother, and you?" 

Mother sighs. "Bruce. *We are not at high tea*." 

"Yes, Mother. I'm sorry." 

"I... all right, I don't care enough to fight this battle today -- who *is* he?" 

Bruce... has the distinct and *profound* sensation of all the blood in his head rushing to his lower abdomen. Not *there*, but -- "Ah. Mother?" 

"You heard me! Who is this paragon? What's his name? Where does he work? What does he *do*? What music does he listen --" 

"Mother --" 

"Yes, interrupt me! And *answer questions*!" 

"Mother, *she* is a -- a *woman*. With --" A vagina. No, not that. "She's very beautiful. I met her at your last party --" 

"You did *what*? No, wait, wait. You're not a homosexual?" 

Bruce coughs. 

"*Well*?" 

"I... I think. I think I might be. Bisexual," Bruce says, and all of the blood is back in his face. 

"Oh. Oh, I see. Hm. And you didn't think you could tell me that?" 

"Mother, it never came *up* --" 

"You could've *brought* it up! No, no, who *is* she?" 

"Selina Kyle --" 

"Twenty-seven, no college degree but exceedingly well-spoken and worldly, prefers cats to dogs and Sylph to Chanel -- women have so little *taste* these days -- interested more in sculpture than painting, willing to donate to the literacy programs, in need of more of a soft sell than a hard one. Yes, I have her in my mind. She's lovely!" 

"Yes, Mother. I... I was struck by her beauty right away --" 

"Do you talk like that to her?" 

"I... what?" 

Mother sighs. "We'll come back to that. Have you seen her since then?" 

He'd told Harvey he *had*, but Mother might actually *ask* Selina -- "We've... spoken," Bruce temporizes, and does his best to ease the lie/not-lie by looking at the card -- 

_Love the cat. Ask me out to lunch._

His heart beats faster -- he swallows and calms. "I'm. I'm going to ask her out to lunch after we've spoken --" 

"Get off the phone and *do* it!" 

"But --" 

"No, no, I've *missed* you! Oh, Bruce, you don't know how I *worry* about you shut up in that beautifully decorated and *empty* apartment!" 

"Alfred is wonderful company, Mother --" 

"And I'm not? No, not that, either. Bruce. *What* have you been doing that you couldn't call?" 

"I... have a private project I'm working on..." 

"Something for WayneTech?" 

There *is* that new method of Vulcanization that had worked so well for the Fox's boots, and it *is* time for him to offer something new to justify the fact that he doesn't go into the office very often, at all... "Yes, Mother. It's just a little something to make rubber sturdier and lighter, but it may have some profitable applications." 

This time Mother's sigh is happy. "Bruce, I don't care if it doesn't make us one red *cent*. At least I know you're doing *something* with your life." 

"I... I'll probably always wish to stay close to a laboratory environment --" 

"But not one with people you can *talk* to?" 

Bruce frowns. "It's rather a distraction, Mother." 

"Bruce... tell me something." 

"Yes, Mother?" 

"What would have happened if I hadn't chosen to read you nineteenth-century literature for your bedtime stories?" 

"I'm... not sure? They were always quite entertaining --" 

"Of course they were. Strike the question from the record." 

"All right, Mother, I --" 

"Tell me more *about* her!"

"She seems quite interested in animal rights. I'm not sure quite how deeply her sensibilities go --" 

"Don't ask that question on the first date." 

"No?" 

"No, Bruce. Instead, ask her *when* she became interested in it, and *how* she became interested." 

Bruce nods. That's good, sound 'soft' interrogation technique. "All right, I will. She's quite interested in... precious stones. We discussed some of the jewelry the other women were wearing." 

"Bruce... does *she* know you're not a homosexual?" 

Of course -- oh. "Hm. I'll have to be sure she does." 

Mother laughs then, soft and amused and -- somewhat -- exasperated. It's the laugh she's been using with him for at least as long as Bruce can remember. As an adult -- nominally so, according to most of the people in his life, but for the sake of argument -- Bruce now knows that what had seemed like the reasonable questions and concerns of a reasonable child must have seemed like a positively *mulish* refusal to conform to the rules of life and socialization. 

Or, if not to conform, than to at least learn what those rules were. 

In truth, there's much he still doesn't know... but the deeper truth is that he does not *wish* to know, and will avoid it as long as possible. The Fox needs it all, of course, and it's not as if Bruce doesn't ever *regret* not making a deeper study of the whole... the whole *mess* of it... 

Not yet. 

Not... yet. 

"Bruce...?" 

"I'm sorry, Mother. I was... thinking of the telephone call I'm going to make." 

Mother hums. "Really, Bruce...?" 

It's immensely difficult to lie to Mother, and that... is only right and proper. Bruce smiles and strokes the almost furred texture of the card with his thumb. "I'm sorry for dissembling. In truth, I was thinking -- with great distaste -- about the entire human experiment of socialization." 

"It's a bit past the experimentation stage at this point, darling." 

"So I should catch up?" 

Another hum. "You *could* consider it. Or you could continue allowing Alfred to lead you around by your perfectly adorable nose," Mother says, and it's immensely *easy* to picture her. She almost certainly has her elbows on the vanity table, and her only-just-softening chin on one small, deft-fingered fist. Her slowly and tastefully greying black hair -- she colors only *some* of the strands -- is almost certainly upswept, and her maquillage is perfect and subtle, as natural-seeming and gentle as the perfect spring day. He --

"Adorable nose?" 

"Yes, Bruce. *Adorable*." 

"Hm. It's always seemed rather straight and dull to me. Neither especially blade-like nor aquiline --" 

"*Classic*." 

"For a certain subsection of the British Isles, perhaps --" 

"Bruce." 

"Yes, Mother?" 

She giggles, and that's -- oh, that's always so much *better* than her other laughs -- 

Bruce smiles and feels much better about calling Selina. Just -- he almost *never* gets his mother to giggle without *effort* -- 

"Ask her to dinner." 

"Hm." 

"Don't *hm* me --" 

"I've been explicitly instructed -- by Selina -- to ask her to *lunch*." 

"Has she expressly *forbidden* you to ask her to dinner?" 

"No -- I see. You believe I should press my case." 

"Darling, she's been living in Gotham for at least two years --" 

"Nearly three." 

"Well, there you go," Mother says, and sighs again. "She already *knows* you're the *confirmedest* of confirmed bachelors. Pressing your case will -- if she has a brain in her lovely little head -- flatter her." 

"And if she doesn't care for flattery?" 

"All women do, darling," and Mother almost certainly waves a hand. "It's just a question of how sincere they wish it to be, and *when* they want it, at all. 

The Fox receives any number of offers from the women he saves, and some few from the women he captures. The men seem more inclined -- assuming they *are* inclined -- to be flirted *with* -- 

Except for Jim Gordon, and perhaps he should stop that? A question for another time. 

All of them appreciate some measure of flattery, though, with the Fox, it could just as easily be called gallantry. If of a rather crude vintage. Hm. 

"Mother..." 

"Yes, Bruce?" 

"Did you truly approve of her when you met?" 

"Shouldn't I have? To be honest, darling, I stopped vetting possible girlfriends for you *years* ago. *Is* there something unsavory about her?" 

"She... I wish to already know her better than I do." 

"Oh, *Bruce*. I don't know how, but Thea and I *must* find a way to keep this from your father." 

Bruce frowns. "Did *he* not approve of her?" 

"Honestly, darling, I don't think he'd remember who she was unless she popped up with an exciting and rare disease -- which we'll just hope she doesn't. No, the trouble is that he would be tempted to *buy* her for you, and that just wouldn't do, at all." 

Bruce blinks. "Did he... ah. Hm." 

"Just between us...?" And Mother has dropped her voice to a whisper. 

"Yes, Mother?" 

"I *think* he sees *Harvey* as the best investment he's ever made." 

He's known Father prefers Harvey's company to his own for a very long time, and *that's* only proper and sensible -- but. 

"Mother, Harvey isn't some... some start-up venture in Silicon Valley." 

"Oh, so scandalized. You *know* how your father thinks sometimes, Bruce. And he loves Harvey just as much as I do." 

Bruce frowns. It's true. "I... does he... I thought the two of you adopted Harvey --" 

"We adopted him because he was the warmest, wisest, most charming boy we had ever seen in our lives, and because we knew we had to get him away from that *creature* he called a father. We *noticed* him because, apparently within seconds of meeting him, he became the primary subject of your letters and phone calls. You had never *had* a friend before, darling. Not truly." 

"No one... there wasn't anyone as worthwhile as Harvey --" 

"Yes, yes, I *know*. Honestly, there have been times when I've wondered if you were in love with *him*," she says, and Bruce can *feel* her paying attention, feel her metaphorically leaning in. 

He hates himself for this -- he laughs. "Mother, he's my *brother*." 

"Bruce. Be honest with me." 

"I *am*, Mother. I know I'm terrifically odd and even rather bizarre in my chosen interests, but... well. I've yet to find a reasonable defense for incest. I promise I'll let you know if I do." 

Mother is silent for another moment -- and then she giggles, loud and somewhat helplessly. 

Bruce holds the phone away so she won't hear his deep breathing -- 

"And you actually *looked*, didn't you?" 

He had. He just hadn't cared overmuch about the results of his search. "He is *very* handsome, Mother." 

"Oh, Bruce! I *promise* there are other wonderful men out there who are handsome, too!" 

They won't have Harvey's eyes. They could have yours -- no. "If you're sure." 

Mother giggles more. "I'm *absolutely* sure. Perhaps you'll let me introduce you to some if it doesn't work out with Selina." 

Bruce blinks. "You... would do that?" 

This silence has the quality silence attains when Mother is staring at him somewhat witheringly. He's reasonably sure she acquired that stare from Alfred, and he'll never ask. 

"That is to say... I should probably have come to some sort of conclusion about the number of physically attractive and well-spoken women you've invited to your parties over the years, and then introduced me to." 

"*Yes*, darling." 

Bruce nods slowly. It does make sense. "Did you like *all* of them, Mother?" 

She sighs. "To be honest? Not even remotely. But you showed no response to the ones I *did* like, darling." 

Bruce thinks back... "I did enjoy exchanging books with Margaret Giddings when we were twelve, and have always regretted that her family moved so far away." 

"Who -- oh, goodness. That weedy little thing with the beautiful French eyeglass frames?" 

"Yes, Mother. She had your eyes." 

"*Bruce*." 

"Yes, Mother?" 

"Did you *tell* her you liked her?" 

"I... assumed she knew. I gave her all my favorite books." 

"Did she... say... anything?" 

"She tended to become very embarrassed whenever we spoke for more than a few minutes, so I tried to stay quiet. I didn't want her to be uncomfortable." 

"Oh... Bruce." 

"Yes?" 

"Did I not spend enough time with you when you were a little boy? Or -- too much?" 

Bruce frowns. "You had your work with the Foundation, and that has always been far more important than anything else --" 

"Bruce --" 

"Every moment with you was -- was wonderful, Mother. Even when you made me very embarrassed." 

"Oh... I love you, darling." 

"I love you, too --" 

"*Why* do I have to make Alfred *poke* you just to get you to *call*?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. 'The Fox has no parents to call' isn't the best possible answer, or even the fourteenth best. "I'll do better, Mother --" 

"That's not what I *asked*. You -- well, you're my only *chick*, darling." 

"Hm. The manor is rather drafty to be a decent nest, don't you think?" 

"*Real* nests are open to the *sky*, Bruce." 

"Most of them are actually quite cozy --" 

"For a *bird*, Bruce." 

"You did start it, Mother." 

Mother giggles. "I suppose I did, at that. *Answer the question*." 

"I'm... rather more forgetful than I wish to be." Almost certainly because of the sleep deprivation --

"Darling, you remember the name and the *eyes* of a girl who never actually had a *conversation* with you and whom you last saw nearly two *decades* ago. Try. Again." 

"Mother --" 

"Darling, darling boy. Either you have *some* sort of secret that keeps you toiling away day and night or you are far more dim than it's actually *possible* for you to *be*." 

"I do spend a very long time in the laboratory --" 

"Working on everything from rubber to armor to *air* filters of all things, yes, I *know*, but -- oh, darling, I just want to be *close* to you. You *know* that." 

The Fox -- 

The Fox can't be close to Martha Wayne. 

Mother doesn't even *like* the Fox, or... would she? If she got to know him better? 

How to even go about finding that *out*? 

Bruce rubs his temple and frowns and *wants* -- "I'll do better, Mother." 

This time, Mother's sigh is more than a little *sad* -- 

"I -- I *promise* --" 

"And you *do* always keep your promises," she says, but there's still too much -- 

"Mother, I *love* you --" 

"I know, darling. And -- I've never doubted that," she says, and there's more than a bit of rue in her voice. "It's only... you were away for so *very* long on your travels, and I... oh, I don't know. I suppose I just had a dream of you bringing home some desperately exotic young man and the two of you coming back to live *here*. This drafty old pile is *lonely* without you." 

"You... you and Father could move --" 

"Bruce, your father will *never* move. You *know* that. And -- that's neither here nor there. You'll do better about calling, and you'll even come to *visit* for more than just the parties, and you *will* bring Selina *with* you -- am I being clear?" 

"Yes, Mother --" 

"Good. God, do you know the manor is *subsiding*? Something about vast underground *caves* of all things. Well, we'll *have* to come into the city for a few weeks this summer while the repairs are being done, and then you'd better be ready to *socialize*." 

Oh, dear. "Oh, that will be -- hm. When?" 

"When? Why are you asking when? You're not planning to leave the *country* again, are you?" 

He isn't, but Mother likes to socialize at *night*. That could be -- would be -- terribly problematic for the Fox. "I don't think so, Mother, but there is a particular professor in Cadiz I've wished to converse with for one of my projects --" 

"Use the *phone*, Bruce." 

Damn -- no. Bruce quiets the Fox within him as best he can, and laughs softly. "An excellent point, Mother. I'll do just that." 

"Honestly, darling -- well. You are *precisely* who you are, and I am duty-bound to adore you for it." 

"It's a matter of duty?" 

"Oh, yes. The study and drilling at Mommy Boot Camp is *very* strict." 

"Hm. Do the drill instructors carry riding crops?" 

"What do *you* know about riding crops, darling? Hmm...?" 

Bruce thinks of Selina's whip and blushes *helplessly* -- wait. "They... seem useful? For... horses?" 

Mother giggles again. "You just keep thinking that way, darling. Scars and ligature marks wouldn't suit you in the *slightest*." 

"As you say, Mother." 

"All right. Go call Selina. Remember to ask her to dinner, too, and... hmm... make sure you talk to her even if she *does* blush impressively." 

"I don't want to --" 

"Bruce."

"Yes, Mother. She... doesn't seem to be the blushing *type*, however." 

"No, she really doesn't, but one never can predict just what effect *you're* going to have on a person." 

The *Fox* can. Of course, people tend to react in a very few predictable ways to a smiling vigilante kicking them in the face. "Yes, Mother." 

Mother's sigh is fond. "I don't want to say goodbye!" 

"Then --" 

"No, darling. But... call me in *less* than a week?" 

"I -- are you sure?" 

"I am, darling." 

"Then I will. I love you, Mother." 

"And I will always, *always* love you. Felicitations for *all* your endeavors! Goodbye." 

"Goodbye, Mother --"

She hangs up, and Bruce does the same... then gives himself a moment to call up the exact nuances of her scent the last time they'd hugged. Chanel no. 22, of course. Subtle berries and musk for her hair -- upswept and dramatically shot with grey and white. The scent of *her* beneath the rest, sweet and indescribable. *Warm*. 

*Human* -- 

And the urge, impossible and needful, to *lift* her into his arms, and kiss her cheek, and laugh with her as she giggles for him, for him -- 

But that sort of thing isn't done. Or... could it be? 

Bruce frowns and stares at his hands, which are pale and scarred here and there. The gloves the Fox *used* to wear were thin and very stylish and sexy -- and often didn't last two nights of punching people and climbing things before they shredded, leaving his hands vulnerable. 

'Lab accidents' can only account for so much, considering the fact that it's difficult to make bruised and abraded knuckles look remotely innocent. 

Innocent is... an interesting word. A *useful* word -- Bruce is reasonably sure that neither his parents nor Thea or Harvey could ever suspect *him* of being the flamboyant Fox, difficult scheduling or no. It's just that it's been *easy* to be, well, *dim*. 

To allow himself to, yes, *drift* through life, and smile vaguely, and be far too formal for anyone to ever take *seriously*. 

Should he give that up, as Alfred has suggested? As Mother has *begged* for at times? 

Should he give it up with only *some* people, and form an entirely separate persona? Someone louder and more cheerful and less... less *nerdy*? 

Someone who goes to parties *other* than Mother's, and the ones Harvey drags him to. Someone -- 

Someone *alive* enough to look at a beautiful woman who *doesn't* need to be saved or arrested and still see someone worth... flirting with? 

Bruce closes his hands into fists. The truth is that he'd thought about kissing Margaret Giddings any number of times. Mostly her seemingly perpetually reddened cheeks, but also her ink-stained fingers -- she loved newspapers, he remembers -- and her bitten lower lip. 

He had masturbated -- both Alfred *and* his father had been very clear about it being something healthy to do, if only in private -- very often while thinking about what her small breasts might have looked like, and what her tongue might have tasted like, and how it might have felt to tie her up like the women in Zorro and Grey Ghost serials... 

The usual sort of thing, he thinks, and he *could* have shared that with Harvey in the days when he would *ask*, but -- 

He'd chosen innocence, time and again. 

It wasn't quite a lie -- Margaret had been the *only* 'star' of those fantasies for years after she had moved away, even after the girls surrounding him had grown larger breasts and become more aggressive about seeking out the *other* Wayne heir -- and it had *felt* more honest than speaking openly about his fantasies ever could, but... 

But. 

Bruce had built the Fox consciously, going over and over thoughts, plans, conversational gambits, catch phrases, and uniforms during his travels. Filling notebooks he'd burnt, and sketchbooks he shredded and *then* burnt. He'd answered as many questions about the Fox as he could think of, and it's only recently that he's found more. 

He'd never *planned* to make love to people on rooftops and in alleys, but he'd known the *Fox* would plan that way, and so the Fox carried condoms from the beginning. And occasionally *flashed* them. And then, of course, there was the eyeliner to both make his eyes seem more dramatic and to help disguise him, the clip-on earrings he'd discarded after a month of trying to make them work, the boots he'd strengthened and lengthened both for how they made his calves look and for practical concerns like Nor'easters and unplanned trips into the sewers. 

There's the sword he'd grown terrifically depressed about giving up -- far too dangerous in melee conditions -- and the throwing knives he secrets on his person on any given night. 

There are the weighted bolos and the *heavily*-weighted bolos. 

There are the shaped charges and firebombs he keeps in booby-trapped compartments along the inside edge of his sash -- which is designed to look far more frivolous and light than it could ever *be* -- and the traps for the sash itself. 

There are *countless* things, and he'll be adding and subtracting them for the rest of his professional *life*. But he'll be doing it *consciously*, and with forethought. 

Bruce Wayne had been created with neither. That *seems* perfectly human and understandable, but Bruce has not missed that most other humans manage to negotiate their lives with far less *bumbling* than he does. 

Alfred wants him to be even *more* of a bumbler to hide the provenance of his wounds and scars, but Alfred *also* wants him to allow the Fox into Bruce Wayne's day-to-day existence. The thought makes him feel stretched on a rack made from his own bones -- 

All right, that's somewhat ridiculously gruesome. Bruce laughs to himself and checks his watch -- forty-five minutes until he has to leave. 

Forty-five minutes and a drive which will last anywhere between ten minutes and thirty and which will put him at the busy, bustling diner Harvey prefers. 

They have very good pickles there.

And Bruce is still staring at his hands. Selina likes the touch of his bare hands, and has made no comments about his manicure. Gilda often teases Harvey about *his*, because working with clay and stone and various sharp implements for her art has left her hands with much in common with Bruce's own, and nails which are never entirely clear of debris. 

Gilda never, ever eats with her hands -- even when the dishes call for just that -- 

He has to build Bruce Wayne more consciously. More *thoughtfully*. 

He has to -- do better. 

Bruce makes a quiet vow, picks up the telephone, and dials the phone number written on the card in bold, sweeping lines. 

The telephone rings three times -- 

"Holly's House of Handsome Hairy Hosebeasts, how can I help you?" 

Bruce blinks, looks at the telephone number again, thinks back to the act of dialing -- "I... hello." 

The woman -- perhaps Holly herself -- snickers brightly. "Sorry about that. *Way* too much coffee today. How can I help you?" 

"You're Holly? The young woman who dropped off Miss Kyle's card today?" 

"Uh, huh. You're Mr. Wayne?" 

"Yes --" 

"Heya! Selina's in the shower right now -- and don't you just love *that* image?" 

"Ah..." 

Another snicker. "She'll be out in a minute. *Great* touch with the cat, but she can't stand cut flowers. Remember that." 

"I will, thank you. Is there anything else --" 

"Um um... definitely don't get her any live plants, either, because Isis -- that's her kitty -- will eat just enough of it to make herself sick, then puke all over the apartment, then repeat the process. Does Selina clean that up? No, no she doesn't. Who does that leave?" 

"Ah... you?" 

"*Exactly*. So --" 

"Holly -- may I call you Holly?" 

"Yep!" 

"What... what's a hosebeast?" 

"Well... um. Hm. You know, I can honestly say that no one has ever asked me that question before, Mr. Wayne." 

"Please, call me Bruce --" 

"Nah. Not until Selina decides whether or not you're a keeper. No offense." 

Bruce blinks, considers... yes. He can be... some degree of aware. "None taken. Have you been with Miss Kyle long?" 

"Just since she's been back in Gotham. I'm kind of like her secretary, only she never tries to make me wear pantyhose." 

"I've always thought those seemed uncomfortable." Uncomfortable enough to help with certain undercover roles, as an added focus. 

"Oh, you don't even know. And don't even get me started with the sweating, and the weird names for the colors, and the itching, and the *yeast* infections -- eugh!" 

"Hm. If wearing them causes you to develop yeast infections, then you might wish to cut out the crotch area --" 

"Or not wear them. Ever." 

"Yes, I suppose that works, as well," Bruce says, and nods to Alfred, who is standing in the doorway looking somewhat stricken. 

"You know... has anyone ever told you that you're kinda hard to faze?" 

Bruce smiles. "It's been mentioned. Though I'm actually quite easy to shock in some ways." 

"I'm a big ol' dyke and I've spent the past three years trying to get into Selina's pants." 

Well. But -- "I'm sorry it hasn't worked. She's truly a fascinating woman." 

"Wow. You. Uh. Okay! You're getting provisional high marks." 

"Thank you. I do have a question, though." 

"Yeah?" 

"You seem to have no trouble, no... issue with referring to yourself as a 'dyke.' Would you say that's correct?" 

Holly hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'd say so. And let me guess your next question -- you're wondering why it doesn't offend me?" 

"Yes --" 

"It does. It really, *really* does. I mean, if you -- or some other straight guy -- were to call me a dyke? I'd run over your feet with my moped, or dump sugar in your gas tank, or maybe just tag your house with a picture of the Willendorf Venus." 

"I think that would make lovely graffiti --" 

"You are *so* right! But Selina won't let me put it on the Stock Exchange building." 

"Hm. Well, the security in that area does tend to be rather daunting." 

Holly sighs. "Yeah. Well, maybe the next time there's some huge supervillain threat on the other side of the city." 

"That does tend to leave other parts of the city quite undefended." 

Another thoughtful hum. "We'll just save that think for later. *Anyway*, like I was saying, not just anyone would be allowed to say that to me. It's kind of like Black people who say all *kinds* of dirty, racist words to each other and mean it jokingly, or even affectionately." 

Bruce nods. "A kind of reappropriation?" 

"Yeah! I *normally* wouldn't have used it with you --" 

"I'm bisexual," Bruce says, and feels a bit like he's only left himself ten seconds to get away from a charge he's set. 

"You -- uh. Seriously?" 

"Yes. I'm afraid I can't share the name of my last male lover, but, well, having just come out to my mother, I can't help but feel as though it's time I turned over a new leaf. I *am* nearly thirty." Bruce smiles at Alfred -- 

Alfred seems to be counting to himself, or perhaps meditating. Bruce leaves him to it. 

"In any event, I'm not sure if I'd ever feel comfortable referring to myself as a 'faggot,' even in the context of reappropriation." 

"I can see that. You're a little too uptown for the growing queer movement." 

Bruce hums. "Are there organizations for this sort of thing? Beyond the usual gay rights organizations." 

"Oh, yeah. Selina's always donating to the really obnoxious ones -- the ones that out people like you and your ex, actually." 

Bruce laughs. "I see. Well, I hope to remain under the radar for groups such as those, at least for the time being. My father is rather more conservative than my mother, and my ex-lover... well. That's a story he would have to tell." 

"I hear ya. Anyway, Selina's standing here *looking* at me. Gimme a sec," she says, and there's the sound of her covering the receiver. 

Since she wishes privacy, Bruce holds his own receiver away from his ear and hums a few bars of "Sing Sing Sing," which he'd decided as a teenager would be the Fox's favorite song. 

He gets to the part which the Fox has been known to hum and scat along to while in the process of giving large groups of armed men moderate to serious injuries -- 

And Alfred hands him a small card with the name, address, and telephone number of what is, presumably, the vegetarian restaurant. 

At the bottom of the card is an arrow pointing up. Bruce looks up -- 

Alfred has raised *both* of his eyebrows. Oh, dear. Bruce covers his receiver and opens his mouth -- 

Alfred shakes his head. "I will need some measure of *time* to come up with an appropriate response to this conversation, Master Bruce." 

"I thought I was doing rather well --" 

"You may very well have been -- depending on Holly's discretion and sense of honor. However, should she or Miss Kyle be of a mercenary bent... do you see what I am saying?" 

Bruce winces. "I suppose I could say I was drunk. It's not as though Harvey would *tell* anyone, or as if there are any other people who could." 

Alfred sighs. "Time will tell. If you will excuse me, I need to begin my own avenues of research into Miss Kyle and her... associate." 

"As you say." 

Alfred inclines his head, then turns and goes. 

Bruce tries to decide whether or not he should try to listen to the conversation Holly is having with Selina -- 

And it occurs to him, with something like an electrical *jolt*, that she could be having a very similar conversation with Holly. Hm. 

That's more than worth investigation of his own. He waits, goes back to Benny Goodman -- 

He stops and tries to remember whether or not Selina has *heard* him scat along with it as the Fox -- 

He schools himself to silence and waits. 

And waits for long enough that a part of him *knows* Selina's conversation with Holly is at least somewhat fraught -- 

"Bruce...?" Selina's voice is low and throaty, openly flirtatious -- 

The Fox smiles somewhat helplessly. "Selina. Good morning." 

A soft laugh and the sound of fabric on leather -- "*Barely* morning, you mean. How are you...?" 

"My morning was much improved by the receipt of your card." 

"Mm. My evening was much improved by the receipt of your little cat. She bears a strong resemblance to Isis." 

Slim, black, graceful, wide of eye... "Truly? A happy coincidence." 

"Indeed. Bruce..." 

"Yes, Selina?" 

"You've managed to make a *powerful* impression on my assistant." 

Well... "I thought it was best to return the favor." 

Another laugh, another whisper of fabric -- it would be silk. Had she crossed her legs?

"Now that's interesting, Bruce. Holly told *me* that she'd only met your... retainer?" 

"Man about the house. Alfred tends to refer to himself as my valet, but if those were the only duties he performed, I believe my home would crumble to dust, and me with it." 

"Are you saying you're helpless...?" Danger in her voice -- 

The Fox wants to *rise* -- Bruce resists. "Considering the conversations I've had recently with Alfred, Harvey, and Mother, that seems to be the impression I've given." 

"Seems to be? Have you deceived your loved ones?" 

Oh... yes. Bruce raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Don't we all deceive our loved ones?"

"I don't." 

Bruce hums. "Not even by presenting them with sides of yourself you know they'll prefer to other sides of you?" 

Selina laughs again. "Is that what you were doing with Holly?" 

"As I told her, I'm turning over a new leaf. I wish to be... a great deal more honest." 

"Not simply 'honest?'" 

Someday, and maybe for you. Someday -- and it should've been Harvey. Someday, and if I don't believe that... 

If, someday, I *can't* believe that -- 

"One day, I hope to find myself with a person with whom I can be absolutely honest at all times, in all ways --" 

"Is that what you're looking for with me, Bruce...?" 

Bruce closes his eyes -- "Yes." 

Selina exhales directly into the receiver, slowly and deliberately. "I don't know you." 

"Not yet." 

"I didn't see... hmm. This side of you. At the party, I mean." 

"It was Mother's party." 

"She's not *my* mother, Bruce -- and there's more than one mother in the world." 

"Very true. My apologies."

"Accepted... provisionally." And -- 

Selina's parents are dead... but would it be acceptable for him to know that? To question? 

Try it and find out, the Fox says, and his smile is a lazy dare, a teasing *goad* -- 

"Do you often miss your parents, Selina?" 

"Perhaps rather less than you would miss your own were our situations reversed." 

"Do you know much about my relationship with my parents?" 

"The whole town knows you're a -- you'll forgive the term -- mama's boy, Bruce." 

Bruce hums a laugh and crosses his own legs. "I've never particularly minded that term. Perhaps if the universe had provided me with a less loving and open-minded mother I'd feel differently... but." 

"'But', indeed. Will she be going with us on our dates...?" 

Bruce's heart beats faster -- "We'll be having more than one?" 

"One to get to know you. Two to decide whether you're worth my time. Three... well. We'll just see about three. Answer the question." 

"She wants me to bring you to family gatherings. I've never thought that 'counted' as a date --" 

"Bruce... what do you like to do with men," she says, and Catwoman is dancing through her voice, laughing and purring and *switching* -- 

"What do you like to watch?" the Fox asks -- but has the decency to allow Bruce to use his own voice. 

Selina purrs. "Where are we going for lunch today...?" 

Oh -- "I'm afraid I'm meeting my brother --" 

"Was it him?" 

*Yes* -- "I'm also afraid I've never been especially enamored with incest, despite its cachet of being the game the entire family can play." 

Selina's laugh is as throaty and *thick* as her purr. "All right, Bruce. Where are you taking me *tomorrow*?" 

"Sprouts --" 

"Vegetarian meals are for when I've finally eaten enough red meat. That *hasn't* happened yet." 

"Noted. The Dahlia --" 

"Hate the name." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Adzuki?" 

Selina's hum makes it clear she's smiling again -- "Do you really like sushi? Or do you use it to impress poor girls from the wrong side of the tracks?" 

St. Anthony's tuition costs aren't especially low. A scholarship student? Do they *take* scholarship students? "I --" 

"So you *haven't* checked up on me....?" 

Well. "I wouldn't say that..." 

"What *would* you say?" 

"That St. Anthony's is an excellent school --" 

"In terms of academics? Yes. But it was... stifling. Even compared to other parochial schools. It wasn't just a school for rich people; it was a school for *wealthy* *religious* people." 

"I have very little experience with those. Were there nuns cracking your knuckles with rulers?" 

"Mm-hmm... and very clearly dreaming of the days when they could do much, much worse." 

Bruce frowns. "I'm afraid I don't much care for abusive people in positions of authority." 

"Well, then perhaps we have something in common, Bruce -- I don't much care for authority full stop." 

Really. "Police...?" 

"Corrupt, misguided, prejudiced, narrow-minded, or all of the above." 

"Hm. Politicians?" 

Another throaty laugh. "See above. Though I'm sure your brother is a wonderful person." 

"He truly is. He's one of the best men I've ever known." 

"And you're *sure* it wasn't him...?" 

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have *him* take you to lunch...?" 

"What if I want both of you?" 

Oh... "I can honestly say that that is a fantasy I've never had." Involving you. 

"Typical. Men can be such wildly unimaginative creatures," she says, with an exaggeratedly bored sigh. 

Bruce hums. "I promise to do my best to rectify that situation." 

"Will you?" 

"Selina... I can also honestly say that there is much you could ask me for and be confident of receiving." 

"Are you calling me a gold-digger, Brucie...?" 

"I'm calling you tonight... so that we may continue this conversation." 

She purrs. 

She *purrs* -- 

And the Fox adjusts himself in Bruce's trousers. "What time shall I pick you up for lunch tomorrow --" 

"Ask me tonight -- before ten, please. I *may* just be working late." 

Oh, really. "That would be... tragic." 

Selina laughs. "Perhaps. For someone who doesn't *like* their job." 

Indeed. "What *do* you do for a living, Selina?" 

"That would be telling. Until later, Bruce." 

"Au revoir --" 

"I loathe French." 

"Ciao...?" 

"*Much* better," she says, and hangs up. 

Bruce closes his eyes... and catches himself bringing the receiver to his nose for a hint of her scent. It doesn't work, of course, but... 

There's something about the sleekly plastic curve of the thing... 

Bruce laughs at himself, hangs up, and gives himself five minutes to meditate himself back into something like his own skin. 

Bruce Wayne's skin. 

The Fox's *shadow* -- 

But would Harvey like it if Bruce behaved the way he'd behaved with Selina? 

Does he dare try to find out? 

Bruce sinks, and sinks deeper -- 

Bruce peels away the layers of the room around him and the layers of his self -- 

Bruce looks down (in) and he's (a boy) there, naked and (fetal) curled in, frowning (thinking needing wanting) -- 

Bruce sinks in -- 

And in -- 

And, when he opens his eyes, he's something close to ready. He goes down to the garage. 

Alfred is waiting beside the open back passenger door of the Rolls, and his bearing has the formality of someone deep in thought. Bruce gets in and leaves him to it. 

All in all, they've been driving for twelve minutes and are three blocks away from the diner when Alfred finally clears his throat. 

"Yes, Alfred?" 

"I confess I am ashamed, Master Bruce." 

Bruce blinks. "But why? You have nothing to *be* ashamed of, Alfred. You're one of the greatest men I've ever known." 

"Oh, sir..." Alfred sighs. "I believe the way you chose to phrase that is at the heart of the matter. I must remember that you have never and *will* never do *anything* by half measures." 

"Father always said --" 

"That one must act -- always -- with the courage of one's convictions. Yes, Master Bruce, I remember that, as well. I know that you will *always* be courageous." 

"I must be. I -- it would shame me to be *less*." 

Alfred smiles into the rearview mirror for a moment. "Then be bold, sir, and be *sure*." 

"Yes, Alfred --"

"And rest assured that I will *always* be behind you, and that I will *always* do what's necessary to make sure that your life proceeds as it should." 

And that... "Alfred, I believe I would like a hug." 

Alfred laughs softly. "Then begin searching for an adequate parking space, sir. I must return my attentions to navigating this thoroughfare in such a way that we will survive the depredations of the escaped asylum patients who drive this city's taxicabs." 

"As you say." 

Bruce finds a spot which is -- barely -- large enough for the car only a block away from the diner, and Alfred allows him to open his door himself. They hug on the sidewalk, in the midst of the bustle and *haste* of the city at lunchtime, and Bruce gives himself over to it. It can be hard to find Alfred's *warmth* -- Bruce is quite sure that he hasn't seen more than the last inch of Alfred's forearm since the raccoon incident, when Father had had to give Alfred a tetanus shot for his scratches -- but only in terms of the physical. Alfred cares about him very much, and, even though Bruce has never been entirely sure *why*, the knowledge is something which wraps him in an *internal* warmth. 

Bruce squeezes Alfred, and then does it one more time before pulling back. "Thank you." 

"You are *quite* welcome, sir. I take it the conversation with Miss Kyle went well?" 

"Quite, though it turns out that she has no interest whatsoever in vegetarian cuisine. I'll be taking her to Adzuki, instead." 

"An excellent choice. I will call ahead to make sure they have enough Kobe beef for... tomorrow?" 

"Yes, Alfred." 

"Very well," Alfred says, inclining his head and clicking his heels together. "Enjoy your lunch, and I will retrieve you in an hour. If you order those awful mozzarella 'sticks' again, I will remove every grain of caffeinated coffee from the apartment for a month." 

"But --" 

Alfred looks at him. 

"They're really quite --" 

Alfred *looks* -- 

Bruce frowns. 

Alfred sighs. "Oh, all *right*. I will *make* some for you with buffalo mozzarella and... yes, I believe sourdough bread crumbs would be quite appropriate. But I will expect you to share them with Master Harvey, as *his* palate has become disgraceful since he moved into the city proper. Honestly, Master Bruce, I would think the grease *alone* would dissuade you!" 

"It's just that they're very tasty, Alfred --"

"Go to lunch, Master Bruce." 

"Yes, Alfred." 

Bruce walks into the diner -- the name of the place has been obscured for at least as long as Harvey's been an ADA by an exceedingly solid layer of grime -- and gets in line. When Harvey is in the middle of the trial, he always wants rare pastrami on soft rye with mustard and hot sauce on the side. He drinks only water, and will give his pickle to Bruce, whether or not Bruce orders pickles of his own. 

Bruce orders the pickles and a fountain soda for himself, feeling rebellious and a bit like the Fox as he chews the sugary ice while he waits for the most beautiful man in the world to walk through the door. 

Though the Fox would probably have some sort of liquor to pour into the cup. Hm. What alcoholic beverage goes with -- Bruce checks -- Zesti cola? Rum, perhaps? 

Harvey had once mentioned a classmate mixing his cola with *gin*, though that seems terribly odd. Rum tends to make Bruce feel both warm and *explicitly* sexual, though Bruce has never been able to tell if it's the beverage itself or the fact that ninety-nine percent of the times he's had it he's also been alone with Harvey. 

Beautiful, strong -- 

Had Selina *meant* her tease to any extent? She wouldn't be the first woman to whisper thoughts about sharing him with Harvey into his ear. At one memorable gala during one of Bruce's brief visits home during his training, three *different* women had suggested it. Early the next morning, in Harvey's small, off-campus apartment in New Haven, Bruce had told Harvey about it, and asked him if he would ever want that, if he *could* ever want that -- 

("Big guy, there isn't a woman alive I trust enough for that.") 

But that had been before Gilda. Bruce swallows more of the soda and allows himself a luxury he usually doesn't: 

Gilda is five feet four inches tall and approximately one hundred and seventeen pounds. She's entirely healthy, though thin and not especially muscular -- save in her arms, which are almost *roped* with strength. 

Her figure is a subtle hourglass, and her breasts are somewhere between an A and B in cup size. Her nipples and areolae are a dark reddish purple in color. Only that last fact puts her in the category of women Bruce has labeled as 'Harvey's Type.' 

Every other woman before Gilda had been tall, busty, and either deeply and traditionally athletic, or attractively idle. When Bruce imagined Harvey with a wife -- and he did that often -- the faces would change and shift and melt, but the bodies were all the same... and rather close to Selina's. 

Bruce had been happy when Harvey found Gilda. It had been impossible *not* to be happy, as Harvey's pleasure in her was genuine, deep, and *infectious*. 

And Bruce had dreamed of the day when Harvey would call him -- 

("Big guy, I need... I need a favor...") 

And he would've promised anything, absolutely anything -- 

("It's Gilda. She... ah...") 

And Bruce would've asked if there was anything *wrong*, but Bruce would know the truth, Bruce would always *know*. 

("It's just... the two of us. And the two of *us*...") 

Could be three? Of course, anything, I've *dreamed*, Harvey -- 

("We have to stop, Bruce. We do. I mean -- at least for a little... ah, God..." 

"What are you saying, Harv?" 

"It's just... Gilda and I are getting serious, Bruce." 

"I know, Harv, and I'm so happy for both of you. She's a *wonderful* woman --" 

"I can't keep cheating on her. I just -- it's wrong." 

"Harv...?" 

"You have to -- nothing with you could ever *be* dirty or wrong, Bruce, but --" 

"Brother --" 

"I love you. I love you so much --" 

"Harv, I love *you*. I *need* you --" 

"You *don't* --" 

"Harv... please."

"I... no. Not. Not anymore.")

Bruce tucks the old, familiar hurt of that night back within himself. That...is not for now. For now is what *might* have been, because Bruce knows that Gilda enjoys being lifted onto Harvey's lap and having her nipples sucked for long minutes at a time, and that she cries out and claws at the sheets when Harvey spanks her -- always *lightly* -- and that she shakes, always *shakes*, when she takes Harvey's penis into her mouth. 

It's easy enough to add himself to the images, to the fantasies and memories and internal *footage* -- 

Here, he could hold her slim ankles while Harvey tasted her vulva. 

Here, he could suckle her left breast while Harvey lapped at the right. 

Here, he could -- 

"*Please* tell me you're awake over there, big guy." 

Bruce smiles. "I'm rarely more awake than when I'm daydreaming, Harv," Bruce says, and pours Harvey's bottled water into a glass. 

"Daydreaming, hunh? Do I wanna know?" And the light in Harvey's eyes is faintly fractured between worry and lascivious interest, between guilt and prurience -- 

I would do anything for one more night with you, Bruce doesn't say, and it's easy to add ruefulness to his smile. "I have a lunch date tomorrow." 

"With Mom? Damn, I was supposed to tell you to call --" 

"Alfred was exceedingly clear about the matter, don't worry. The date is with Selina." 

Harvey blows out a breath. "Okay. Okay. I'm handling this. I'm eating and handling this," he says, picking up his sandwich and dipping it in the mustard and hot sauce mixture -- "Wait, *now* tell me what she looks like," and he begins to eat.

"Of course," Bruce says, and takes another swallow of soda. He spares a moment to wonder if this will make it easier for him to lose a tooth the next time someone hits him in the face with a two-by-four, but decides to leave the thought for later. "She's five feet eight inches tall, and seems to favor three inch heels. Her hair is thick and black, and flows down to nearly the mid-point of her shoulder blades. She tends to wear it down in a simple wave. She has fern-green eyes and a soft, sensual mouth which is rather broad for a woman's. She's quite well-endowed, and is also broad of hip. Her legs are long and quite muscular -- I believe she's an athlete -- and she's very fond of the color purple. She --" 

Harvey has stopped chewing. 

"Harv?" 

Harvey swallows somewhat painfully. "So you're basically dating a porn star is what you're saying." 

Bruce frowns. "She hasn't mentioned acting in any adult films --" 

"Big guy, work with me." 

Bruce smiles and leans back the short distance the booth will allow. "I did mention that she was beautiful." 

"Yeah, you did, but you're *you*. Frankly, big guy? Some of the people you've described as 'beautiful' could break mirrors." 

"There's such as thing as *transcendent* inner beauty, Harv." 

"Yeah, yeah, this chick sounds like she could *transcend* a dead man. Where did Mom *find* her?" 

"Actually, she was the guest of one of the sculptors Mother invited." 

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "You stole her out from under some other poor bastard? Wait, *which* sculptor?" 

"Edward Grant. I believe --" 

"All right, he's as queer as three dollar bill --" 

"Harv --" 

"Bruce, if *we* can't say that? *No* one can, and it's too damned descriptive a phrase to lose." 

"Actually, I had a conversation earlier today on that very topic with Selina's assistant Holly." 

"What does *she* look like?" 

"I haven't seen her, but Alfred used the word 'exciting' to describe the way she dressed --" 

"And *that* tells us everything we need to know," Harvey says, and places his pickle on Bruce's plate. "Eat that and talk more." 

"How is the --" 

"I'm wiping the floor with the Strangler's attorney, Bruce. It's a crying shame, is what it is. I was expecting at least a *little* razzle-dazzle from the guy who got Beaky Schrom off with time served, but I think the guy's past it. Or maybe he just grew a conscience. Stranger things have happened. Now *you* talk," and Harvey goes back to his sandwich. 

"All right, Harv. Holly spoke briefly about a 'queer liberation' movement, with activists who -- and I'm extrapolating -- seem less interested in peaceful compromise and slow integration than with... hmm... sexuality-related uprising?" 

Harvey nods that he should go on. 

"I can't see *myself* involved with any group like that one, but I can't help but feel that there's a place for them in the world. When we were Holly's age, it was still acceptable to label a homosexual as someone *diseased*. Even with the DSM-IV's release, there are still *doctors* who stand by that belief. I --" 

Harvey holds up a finger.

Bruce nods, waits for Harvey to swallow -- 

"Do me a favor, big guy." 

"Of course, Harv." 

"Wait until I'm good and elected before you dump a bunch of cash on Act Out, please." 

"Oh, is that the name of one of the groups?" 

"Yep. They're the ones who decked out Lacie Mansion with rainbow streamers -- and outed that Senator out west." 

Bruce nods. He does remember glancing at something like that in the Herald, though he must admit that he rarely pays attention to political scandals outside of the greater Gotham area. "They do seem rather too excitingly controversial to be a help for your political career." 

"Ya think?" Harvey laughs quietly and leans in. "Big guy, if you wanna come out? I'm behind you a hundred percent. I never thought it suited you to have to lie about something like that --" 

"I never thought it suited *you*, Harv --" 

"I know, I know. But I'm a lawyer, and that means the truth is what I *say* it is, *when* I say it is --" 

"You're not *like* that --" 

"I -- all right, no, I'm not. Even a little. And Gilda... I never told you this, okay? She doesn't *want* me to tell you this." 

"Harv...?" 

"She knows about us, big guy." 

"Oh. Oh. I... did she... what did she *say*?" 

Harvey smiles ruefully and squeezes Bruce's forearm. "One whole hell of a lot -- including the bit about me not telling *you*... but hell. You've been so damned *good*, big guy. It's all -- it's not even remotely *in* you to be a liar --" 

"Harv --" 

"Wait, okay? Just wait," and Harvey squeezes him again. "I think part of what's made the last few years tough on you -- and you can't *tell* me they haven't been -- is that you were missing the time we spent just being honest with each other, and talking about every thought in our *heads*." 

"Oh -- *yes*, Harv. I *do* miss it --" 

"And I miss it, too. I miss -- I wanna be strong enough to let you *say* the things I know you wanna say to me. I wanna be strong enough to be able to hear them and not --" Harvey smiles wryly. "But we always knew, didn't we? That it would have to end?" 

"Harv... I never let myself know it. Not until I had to." 

Harvey looks *hurt* -- 

"Oh, Harv --" 

"No, no, I -- that's just something I didn't let *myself* know. Ah, I never wanted to *hurt* you --" 

"Harv, please, I -- what were you saying before?" 

Harvey frowns -- and nods. "Right, that. I -- yeah. Come out. Just as soon as you can, big guy. Come out, and find yourself a *good* man who *isn't* a goddamned politician --" 

"Gotham *needs* you --" 

"And *I* need *you*. To be happy. To be -- to never be *lonely*. This Selina -- hell, get a guy *and* a girl. Get three of *each*."

"I..." Bruce smiles ruefully. "She seemed to have an interest in *sharing* me with you, Harv." 

"God, another one? And you actually *like* her?" 

"More... more than I can comfortably say right now --" 

"What does *that* mean?" 

Bruce makes a soothing motion with his hands -- and his peripheral vision gives him the sight of two men with expensive cameras staring at them from a table in a brighter part of the restaurant. "Lean back." 

"What -- hell." Harvey does, and Bruce does the same -- 

And then Bruce uses what he likes to think of as his 'social laugh' --

"Augh, big guy --" 

\-- and which Harvey thinks of as 'a spike in his brain.' "You have to admit it's useful, Harv." 

"Yeah, yeah. What's this you can't tell me about her?" 

Oh... dear. But -- "It's somewhat embarrassing --" 

"*Big* guy --" 

"I've been fantasizing about her... extensively." 

Harvey blinks in confusion -- and then stops and nods. "Okay, I can see how that would be embarrassing for *you*, but -- it's really normal, Bruce. I mean, I'm probably gonna fantasize about her and I haven't even been in the same room with her." 

"*Harv* --" 

"Kidding, *kidding*. I..." Harvey smiles wryly. "I'll tell you one thing Gilda said. About us, I mean." 

"Oh... yes?" 

"She said that she could see it. She said that she could see it so clearly that it *hurt*, right in her chest. And she said that if it had to be anyone, she was glad *and* sorry that it was you, because you have one of the most beautiful souls she'd ever been around. Beautiful enough that sometimes she wondered what would've happened if she'd met you first." 

Bruce blinks and feels himself *blush*, helpless and young *again* -- 

Always with Harvey. 

Always. But. "I -- I'm not a *saint*, Harv. I don't -- please don't ever think of me that way." 

Harvey cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows. "Have you ever stolen something?" 

"No." 

"Got drunk without me egging you on?" 

"No --" 

"Cursed out someone who richly deserved it?" 

The Fox prefers to beat people like that to unconsciousness. "No, but --" 

"Told me a lie? *Any* lie?" 

Oh, Harv... 

To have something to *say* in this moment -- 

Go ahead, tell him the truth, the Fox says, and flashes his sharp canines. Be *honest*. Turn those leaves like a *groundskeeper*... big guy. We both know who you *really* belong to.

And Harvey is frowning at him. "Bruce? Was that a tough question?" 

Bruce smiles somewhat painfully. "I'm thinking about all the lies I've told you to keep from... from telling you the things in my heart." 

Harvey winces and jabs the table next to his plate. "Those don't count." 

"No...?" 

"No. It's not a lie if we both know damned well it is one. Not... not a bad one, anyway." 

"I've never been sure that there *were* good lies, Harv." 

"Eat your pickle." 

"Harv --" 

"I'm gonna tell you something else, okay?" 

"All right, Harv," and Bruce picks up his first pickle and begins to crunch through it meditatively. Harvey has his hands folded together, and he's looking down at them as if they have answers he intends to have at all costs. 

Bruce waits, and orders a part of his mind to focus only on vinegar tang and faint hints of the cucumber's former sweetness. It will be summer officially in just a few weeks, and then there will be locally farmed and *un*-pickled cucumbers to eat. They're Harvey's favorite, and he's been known to read the riot act to anyone who tries to steal a slice from the small, ice-filled container he keeps filled and on his desk. 

Bruce misses, badly, the taste of Harvey's mouth just after he's eaten an entire cucumber with nothing but a dash of salt and mayonnaise. He misses -- 

"All right, no, I've already said it. Wait for me just a little longer -- and I wish it was no time at *all* -- and then come *out*. Make some other guy happy just by existing, and then make some girl even happier by showing her what you have in your pants, then make that guy even happier than *that* -- you get me?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Harv, I had a hard enough time negotiating *one* relationship --" 

"No. You were perfect. You were perfect, but I wasn't, and the world we live in *really* wasn't. Maybe... maybe you're *not* built for a whole crowd of people, but I know I always wanted to give you one, big guy. Even when all I *really* wanted was to keep you to myself." 

Bruce blinks -- 

"Yeah. That was a lie I told *you*. It's not the only one --" 

"I forgive you --" 

Harvey holds up a hand. "One more sec, okay?" 

"All right, Harv." 

Harvey nods -- and then he frowns. "Bruce... do you love her already?" 

"I -- I'm not sure." 

"Meaning you *might* be?" 

"It... could simply be obsession." 

"Big guy, you told me that I hadn't even *introduced* myself to you before you fell for me. And now there's this woman... and you're even willing to go out on an honest-to-Christmas *date*... how worried should I *be*?" 

Bruce reaches across the table. He doesn't cover Harvey's hand with his own, but he does allow their fingertips to touch. 

"That feels like 'start worrying five minutes ago.'"

Bruce laughs helplessly. "Harv, no, I -- I *don't* expect her to be you. And you're who I measure everyone against. You're who I measure my own *emotions* against." 

Harvey frowns more deeply. "Telling you to stop that wouldn't do a damned thing, would it?" 

"Ultimately... no," Bruce says, and pats Harvey's hand. "I want her, Harv. I want her, and she makes me laugh, and she makes me *think*. And some of those thoughts revolve around my sense of morality --" 

"Big guy --" 

Bruce holds up a hand. "That morality is my own, and I will... negotiate it as I see fit." 

"That sounds like 'start worrying two *weeks* ago,' Bruce. What --" 

"Harv, it's all right," and Bruce wonders why honesty is suddenly the *more* complicated choice -- 

The Fox wants him to know that he has a *hint* for him -- 

And Bruce smiles ruefully, as opposed to winningly. "She's far less enamored of authority than either of us. That's... all." For now. 

Harvey searches him, frowns, checks his watch -- 

"You have five minutes before you should leave." 

"It never stops being creepy when you do that, big guy. Just to give you a heads-up." 

"Thank you, Harv." 

And Harvey raises his eyebrows and looks at Bruce from under his lashes. 

"Yes, Harv?" 

"There's something you're not telling me about Wonder Woman." 

"I don't think Diana of Themyscira's mystical armor would really *suit* Selina, Harv." 

"It doesn't *suit* *anyone*, big guy -- and stop playing innocent. You haven't been *that* for a long time. Right?" 

Bruce looks at the small, greenish splashes of vinegar on his plate -- 

He looks within at the memory of Harvey licking Bruce's semen off his fingertips and *shaking* -- 

He looks up, and can't quite stop himself from using the Fox to *fix* Harvey with a look. 

"Bruce? What is it?" 

Let me tell you everything. Kiss me again and promise to be with me and let me, please *let* me -- "You started to let go of me when I left the country." 

Harvey frowns. "You were gone for *months* at a time, big guy. And it's not like we could say all those little things in *letters*." 

Bruce nods. "All right. That makes sense."

"Tell me about *Selina*!" 

"She's beautiful, dark, rebellious, and almost impossibly sensual. She drives me to my knees with lust and greed. She teases like a cat with prey in its sights -- and I've made her want me." Some of me. 

"That -- that doesn't sound --" 

"Good. Or especially healthy. I'm not sure if it's either, to be honest," Bruce says, and wonders if all of his lies will be as painful as this -- no. "I'm not sure... but I'm going to find out." 

"*Have* the two of you hooked up?" 

Bruce smiles wryly. "Extensively --" 

"Jesus fucking --" 

And Bruce taps his temple with one finger. "Don't worry, Harv. Imagination was immensely helpful... when I became involved with my *first* lover." 

Harvey's snort is loud and more than a little pained. 

Bruce smiles happily and helplessly -- 

And Harvey pushes the rest of his sandwich across the table . "*You* finish that. I'm gonna go back to putting the nails in the Strangler's coffin." 

"As you say. Shall I call you after my date with Selina?" 

"Big guy, if you don't? I will make my second chairs stalk you. And you *hate* it when I use them as my personal slaves." 

"Well. That *was* supposed to be my job, Harv." 

Harvey *coughs* -- and nearly trips as he pushes himself out of the booth. 

"Should I apologize...?" 

"Only if you don't want a rude gesture." 

"Hmm. I'm sorry." 

Harvey blinks at him -- 

Narrows his eyes -- 

"Bruce... did you just lie to me with a straight face? Is that what you did?" 

The Fox is laughing heartily within him -- and so Bruce tries for another rueful smile. "It seemed the thing to do, Harv." 

"I -- no," and Harvey shakes himself like a dog, pats his thick hair back into place, and *ruffles* Bruce's hair. 

"Harv --" 

"That's what lying liars *get* around here, big guy. Catch you later -- and please don't get arrested with the Purple Princess, no matter *how* hot you think she'd look in handcuffs." 

"Oh -- Harv," and Bruce works up a blush by thinking of holding Selina down while Harvey tongues her anus -- 

But Harvey is gone by the time it forms to any great degree. Sometimes it's the effort which is important. Sometimes.

Bruce finishes Harvey's sandwich, looks longingly at the mozzarella sticks of the young girl in the booth next to his own, finishes *most* of his soda, and goes out to meet Alfred at the curb.


	4. Chapter 4

"Gentlemen! And... other gentlemen. My name is the Fox, and I have a *wonderful* show for you tonight," Bruce says, and wonders how many times he can get away with using that line before it seems stale. For now, with broken glass showering down around him -- 

With bullets -- some of them *tracers* -- cutting sharply jagged slashes through the air where he had *been* -- 

With a dozen gunmen close -- the Fox wants that to be *perilously* close -- to the sort of slumber which could ease anyone gently into mild brain damage -- 

But the thought is meaningless when compared to the crunch of a nose against his fist, the snap of a collarbone -- 

The *pop* of a patella -- 

And another -- 

The Fox is laughing-leering-*jesting* -- 

The Fox is all but *dancing* -- 

And Bruce himself is more than satisfied. The truth is that *this* particular group of heavily-armed men is a collection of hitmen from various parts of the country, brought together by their mutual loathing of Carmine "The Throat" del Fegato -- who has thus far been untouchable by either side of the law. 

Still, a rumor shared with him by Gina "Ginger" Torino after he'd kissed her cheek, and a *glimmer* of truth offered by a dealer in return for one fewer broken rib, had led him to del Fegato's young, gambling-addicted son --

And the word -- loud and clear -- that The Throat's days were numbered, and not especially highly. 

The Fox catches a knife in his teeth because he can -- 

(And because there's *always* room for theater.) 

The Fox uses four throwing knives to attach a hitter -- who is almost certainly named Berry, judging by the jailhouse tattoo on his cheek -- to a wall for long enough that the Fox can kick in his ribs, then turns on the last... 

Three. 

And one of them has proven to be an excellently-disguised woman. She's cursing far more than she's fighting, and so the Fox focuses on the other two, dropping them with a split kick -- 

Followed by a roundhouse -- 

Followed by a double-strike to each man's jaw. 

They're sleeping, now, and will be for a significant length of time. The weapons violations *alone* will be worth jail time for these men, but any number of them are also wanted in various jurisdictions... yes. 

The Fox smiles, and bows shallowly with a flourish to the remaining woman. The sports bra she's wearing under what had been powerful elastic bands -- before those bands had been slashed -- isn't especially flattering, but the Fox can appreciate practicality... 

And a woman who will smile at him while spitting out blood and peeling false stubble from her cheeks. 

"And what's *your* pleasure tonight, lovely...?" 

She raises a dark, elegant (familiar?) eyebrow, wipes her mouth, and rolls her head on her neck. "Fox." 

"The one and only --" 

"Do you mind if we discuss this somewhere private...?" 

"You're beautiful -- but you haven't convinced me that we shouldn't be conversing with the more *actively* belligerent parts of our bodies," and Bruce is rising within the Fox, seeking and searching -- 

"'More belligerent' -- well. That's interesting. *Most* of the JSA is convinced you can't read." 

JSA? But the Fox is too busy grinning for that, and makes another flourish. "Some of us prefer the language of love, gorgeous. Now, tell me --" 

And the woman pulls off the tousled brown wig... to reveal short, dark hair which reminds Bruce helplessly of the late Dinah Lance -- "Still no?" 

"Afraid not --" 

And she lifts the leg of her trousers to reveal *fishnet stockings* -- 

Bruce grunts helplessly. "You're *not* --" 

"I'm her daughter -- and my favorite uncle in the whole wide world taught you how to throw a punch. *Now* can we get out of here?" 

Bruce feels his nostrils flare -- and can't help remembering how it had felt to sneak back into Gotham with dyed hair and a mustache which kept making him look behind him for his father --

How it had felt to avoid everyone he loved and go only to *that* gym, that place of sweat and pain and *effort*. That place of men and men alone... 

Except for the little girl who was too old to sit on Ted Grant's lap but did anyway. The beautiful little girl... with the same scar above her left eyebrow as the beautiful woman in front of him. 

"Hm," Bruce says, punching the button that will call nine-one-one and activating the tracer which will lead police and emergency units to this place. He drops it and runs, catching her by the waist and shooting his grapple -- 

"Hey --"

"Scream." 

"Wha -- heh. Got it," she says, and begins to scream and *kick*. There's a piercing quality to her cries that makes it seem as though his *spine* is vibrating, and she kicks precisely as well as someone raised by the JSA should. 

And she'll have something like a cover should any of those assassins wake. 

And -- 

Her daughter. 

Her *daughter* -- 

Dinah Lance hadn't quite been a friend, but she'd been far more than an acquaintance. The Fox had kissed her palm when she patted his cheek after a mission. 

Bruce had leaned in for the scent of flowers.

This woman -- 

She's barely *more* than a girl -- 

She doesn't smell of flowers. She smells of a woman's musk and a man's cheaply astringent cologne. She's scanning the streets as they fly. She -- 

She's stopped kicking and wrapped a leg expertly around his own, keeping them as aerodynamic as possible -- 

"We're almost there," Bruce says, and tries to find himself, who he should *be* -- 

"Mm-hmm..." 

Bruce lands them on a rooftop with a two-eighty-degree view of the neighborhood and walks them beneath the shadow of a water tower -- 

"So what are you going to do about the fact that del Fegato will live?"

Bruce narrows his eyes. "You were planning to let him die?"

She shows her teeth. "Mom wanted his balls." 

"She failed to get them --" 

"And so have you. Foxy." 

The Fox rises and smiles. "As a matter of fact... he answers to me now, gorgeous." 

A blink -- 

"What's your name?" 

"Black Canary. What the hell do you mean --" 

"Oh, I'm not crooked, pretty bird --" 

"There's exactly one man who gets to call me that, *Fox*, and he earns the privilege with his tongue." 

Oh... "Really. What do men who use their fingers get to call you?" 

"Black Canary... if that's all they've got." 

The Fox steps closer, tilting his head to the side -- 

And Black Canary stops him with the fingers of her right hand... which are held in a strike position which could cripple him with pain. 

The Fox inclines his head -- and remembers. "Your name is Dinah, as well," he whispers. "Your mother didn't want this life for you." 

"Did your mother want this for *you*?" 

"My mother thinks the Fox is an overdramatic boor... but she blushes when she says it." Wait, the Fox isn't supposed to *have* parents --

Dinah's jaw drops -- 

*She* blushes -- undoubtedly for his sake. 

Or Bruce's sake. One of those. "As I was saying -- del Fegato answers to me, and has been doing so for the past year. The reason *why* all of those hitmen had their panties in a bunch is because del Fegato stopped giving them things to do -- and money to do it with." 

Dinah jerks back. "You're running him." 

"Oh... I'm riding him like a show pony, gorgeous --" 

"*Canary*." 

"I've been using him to feed the D.A.'s office information on half the crime families in this city, and I'll *keep* riding him until he's blowing and ready to fall over. Because when he falls? So will a whole lot of other people. Gorgeous." 

She slaps him. 

The Fox smiles. "Noted... Canary. How long do you plan to stay in town...?" 

"Gotham *is* my town, Fox --" 

"I think you'll find --" 

"That it's yours?" A derisive laugh. "You're straight out of an old movie -- decent planning and moves or not. Do you honestly think you can handle this whole city by yourself?" 

No. No. 

The Fox bristles and growls -- 

And Bruce fights it down until it's just a narrowing of the eyes -- 

But Dinah actually *snorts* this time. "You can't. You can't even take care of *yourself*. You've been doing this for three years, and you can't even make *Superman* want you on the League." 

"And why would I want that to be any different?" 

"Company? Backup? *Friends*?" 

"If I wanted friends -- Canary -- then I'd be a politician," and the Fox makes a point of checking over his most *aggressive* throwing knives -- 

"Those will *maim* -- no. You know what? Never mind. Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours," she says, walking away -- 

Walking *away* -- 

She isn't -- 

"Canary." 

"*What*?" 

"Is the shop still there." 

"The --" She clenches her fists at her sides. "You weren't at the funeral." 

"I was. But not like this." 

A sharp breath -- and she turns to look at him over her shoulder. "And I should believe that why?" 

"You can ask... Kent." 

She stiffens -- but only for a moment. "He would've mentioned --" 

"He hasn't cared for me since I grabbed him by the privates and ordered him away from the boys' strolls in my city." 

"You -- no." But that was a blush. 

The Fox smiles and inclines his head. "My next remark was *going* to be an invite back to my place -- who can pass that up? -- but he got just a little... snippy." 

The blush gets interestingly deeper, but the Fox knows it isn't time to take a step closer. 

Not yet. "You know I'm being honest. How?" 

"He never hurts anyone. *Ever*," she says, but it's the voice of a much, much younger girl. 

Oh... and what about Ted? No, not that. "So you *do* all know." 

A wince. "Not the JSA. But the League -- he's not. He's not that much *older* --" 

"He'll be twenty-seven in a week. Old enough. And older enough than *you*." 

For that, the blush becomes something much, much more like a flush. And a smile. "Who were you at the funeral, Fox?" 

"A civilian." 

"A liar." 

"I loved her." 

She waves a hand. "You loved Black Canary." 

Of course -- but. "Do you honestly believe I allow anyone to operate here without knowing precisely what makes them who they are?" 

An eyebrow raise. "Do you honestly believe you can know *anyone* without taking off *your* mask, too?" 

Yes. 

No. And it feels like the world is crumbling a little around him -- 

Yes, and -- 

He knows Mother, and Harvey, and Alfred, and Father, and Thea. He knows that Clark Kent is Superman is a predator. He knows that Selina Kyle wants the Fox and *could* come to want the creature born of him and Bruce Wayne. He knows -- 

He knows that Dinah Lance is dead, and that Dinah Lance is a young woman who used to be a little girl surrounded by grown men who occasionally became... hungry. Grown men like Clark Kent.

He knows he isn't himself far more than he is. 

He knows that he doesn't know who -- precisely -- 'himself' refers to. 

("Have you ever had a day where everything -- absolutely *everything* -- conspired to make you doubt your sanity, identity, and pride?"

"I -- Lex?" 

"Brucie, *darling*, answer the *question*." 

"Is it... five in the morning?" 

"For another three seconds -- and it's over."

"Hm." 

"Well...?" 

"Yes. Yes, I have, Lex." 

"Just checking. Good night.")

And then he'd hung up -- 

And Bruce had *stared* at the phone, and wondered, and *wanted* -- something. Because sometimes Lex *does* call, utterly out of the blue, and sometimes -- 

*Every* time, it's enough to shake him, because Lex -- isn't here. 

He never really *was*, and he *can't* be, and -- he's definitely not here now.

Bruce turns away from Dinah to hide -- something. Perhaps his own eyes. 

"We're -- none of us is perfect, Fox. Do you know -- Christ, I don't even know why I'm trying." 

The Fox wants to say something rude, or even coarse. 

Bruce wants --

"I don't know what I want from you." 

She turns fully and smiles at him wryly. "Not even sure about wanting a hot piece of ass?" 

Bruce spreads his hands, and the Fox smiles. "Sometimes my privates get confused, Canary. What can I say?" 

"'Confused.' That's how you wanna put it?" 

The Fox wants to smile again, or even leer, but Bruce feels it cracking on his face. Just -- 

He has to know -- 

"Are you a hero?" 

"Of course I am --" 

"Do you know -- how do you know? How can you be sure? Every moment of every day?" 

Dinah searches him, lingering on his eyes and on -- 

He knows the lower half of his face is twisted into something of a *rictus* -- he fixes it -- 

And Dinah shudders. And -- 

"You don't know, do you?" 

"I know *sometimes*, Fox --" 

"But not every moment. There are doubts. Fears. Perhaps even... moments of moral slippage and decay?" 

She frowns. "Who *are* you?" 

"No one important. No one --" But what is this? What could it possibly -- 

She'd been a *beautiful* little girl, and of course he'd thought of having a child of his own, someone to hold on *his* lap, and teach, and *show*. 

Someone to be filled with pride about, someone who could grow and *become* something enough like himself to be comfort and enough different to be *wonderful*. And Harvey would love him, and Mother would kiss his cheeks -- 

His or the boy's? 

Did it have to be a boy? 

What possible -- 

"Fox...? *Are* you all right?"

"You let him lead you. You let -- you call him a friend?" 

She colors again, looking out at the city -- no, up at the sky. And that... 

"His powers have increased again...?" 

"Every day," she says, and drums her fingers on her thigh. She frowns -- and sighs. "It's solar radiation. Specifically, radiation within the same range as our sun. Every second he spends within it, he gets a little bit stronger. Shorter wave radiation is one of the few things which can weaken him." 

Bruce swallows and feels himself *wanting* to pale -- "Interesting that that information didn't make it into the Planet." 

She snorts. "Yeah, well. Nobody wants him depowered by someone with a grudge." 

"No one...?" 

A wry grin, and she moves close enough that they can whisper once more, but doesn't say a word. 

"Canary...?" 

"You would've enjoyed the hell out of yourself if you'd gotten a chance with him, Fox. Or *are* you really queer?" 

Another one, and the desire to introduce Dinah to Selina and Holly is... itself. "I am. For all that I'm less experienced than I could be in those respects." 

She raises an eyebrow. "And that means?" 

"One male lover. The only man I ever thought I'd need." 

She takes a deep breath -- and nods once. "You could consider acting like *this* a little more often." 

More like Bruce Wayne? More... honest? 

But what of -- 

The Fox rises suddenly, leers and leans in to whisper in Dinah's ear -- 

"Whatever you're going to say, I've heard worse." 

And so the Fox exhales, long and slow and *hot* -- 

Dinah shivers -- and laughs quietly. "Have you studied much psychology?" 

The Fox rears back -- 

And Bruce hums. "I'm making my other persona less -- ultimately -- believable." 

"Got it in one," she says, and leans back. "What *are* you aiming for?" 

"I live as my own shadow --" 

"Are you sure? I mean -- really," she says, and raises both of her eyebrows. 

And it occurs to Bruce -- desperately belatedly -- that Dinah has lived among superheroes for nearly the entirety of her existence. All of this -- *all* of it -- must be some variety of familiar.

Even him. 

He leans back and cups her face the way he'd never cupped her mother's. He spares a moment to look for crow's feet which aren't there, to breathe in the sharply chemical scent of dye and men's cologne -- 

Her mother was a natural blonde -- 

And Dinah is looking at him patiently, *expectantly* -- 

"You're very beautiful," Bruce says, because it's true, and because it's a concept the Fox wishes to express -- in his own way. 

"Mm-hmm?" 

"I've been feeling... less real lately. Less... cohesive." 

"And?" 

Bruce blinks -- and accepts. "This is something you're more than only slightly familiar with." 

"I flinch every time I see blonde in the mirror. Even if it's just inside. And Clark... well, fuck only knows, you know?" 

"Indeed. He did seem capable of shame-based reactions." 

"Sure they weren't just *shock*-based? He *commented* on how sneaky you could be." 

"It was a surprise to find him in my -- in Gotham. It seemed only prudent to --" 

"What did the Fox say about it?" 

"That he had a nice ass and a pretty face -- and no business in this city." 

Dinah nods thoughtfully. "All id, hunh?" 

"He's not without a certain degree of ego --" 

"You know what I mean." 

He does. He nods, and strokes Dinah's cheekbone. "Do you look like your father?" 

"His mother. Who do you look like?" 

"Hopefully, an Anglo version of Zorro." 

Dinah snorts again, and rubs at her button of a nose. "Okay, that's -- did you not have a *color* TV growing up?" 

And that... Bruce laughs softly. "A certain amount of anachronism has served me well, Canary." 

"Is that so? Loss of *cohesion* and all?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Did you have advice to offer?" 

"Sure. Don't play so far away from who you are that you can't find your way *there* -- or find your way back." 

An excellent thought... but. "A large part of me *does* want to explain to you exactly how much I'd enjoy inhaling near your... vulva." 

A *slight* jaw drop -- and she shakes herself in a deeply canine way. "Any middle ground in there?" 

"This," Bruce says, and leans in to kiss her cheek, and her forehead, and her other cheek. "I wanted to do that when you were a girl." 

"Just that?" 

"I'm not -- I'm not." 

She narrows her eyes, and her lashes aren't especially long, nor are her eyes especially blue. She is *shrewd*, and such things should show more clearly on a face -- 

But perhaps it's in her body? The way she goes about fighting? 

"I'd like to see you fight," Bruce says, and strokes her cheek again. 

"We can spar sometime. But -- ah. Fox." 

"Yes." 

"You're not helping me get a read on you. Not really." 

Bruce nods. "I'm sorry about that. It doesn't seem to be... it doesn't seem to be something I can readily give." 

"Will you tell me your story? What made you do this, I mean. You know mine." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I remember loving the Grey Ghost from before I could easily form sentences --" 

"Again, *color* TV was *available* --" 

"And my family and I were mugged on our way home from seeing _The Mask of Zorro_ at the cinema. My mother lost her favorite... necklace, but... it was nothing especially dramatic. I'm afraid I've just always been something of a fan." 

Dinah frowns. "But -- you *had* to have studied for *years* --" 

"Yes." 

"And -- detective work, too?" 

"And undercover work, here and there. Some sleight-of-hand. A great deal of bio- and organic chemistry." 

She's staring at him. 

"That seems... strange? I assure you, all of it has been exceedingly useful." 

"Yeah, but -- okay, look, two things." 

"I'm listening." 

Dinah nods and tugs Bruce's hand away from her face -- 

Bruce lets the Fox push him into a hipshot pose with his hands placed just so -- 

Dinah *shivers* -- "Okay. One? Fanboys don't *do* all that. They -- they do barely anything at *all*. And then? They fuck up within a *week* of starting out, and either need one of us to save them or they get themselves killed. You have no *idea* how many of them we *have* saved --" 

"I've personally dissuaded eight." 

"-- or you do know. Right. And you obviously knew enough to keep it out of the news --" 

"It doesn't make our cause look especially... sensible." 

"Or noble. Or *sane*." And Dinah takes a deep breath and throws her head back, exposing the sturdy column of her throat. "God, fucking *fanboys*. And fangirls, too. Can't forget those." 

"You don't think women are more generally reasonable?" 

She looks at him as though he's mad. 

"Or... not? I was only thinking about how few women I generally have to be violent with." And then there's Selina, who goes about her jewel and art thefts *flamboyantly*... and sanely enough that *only* the Fox has ever caught her. 

Tonight... 

Tonight she had given him only a taste of her companionship, only a hint of a tease. 

She had spoken of making an early night of it... but there *is* that chryselephantine statue to be considered -- 

"Where'd you go?" 

Bruce breathes deeply and focuses. "To thoughts of one particular female criminal. A rather exceedingly lovely one." 

"Does the Fox play with her?"

"Yes." 

"Does -- the guy you are *underneath* the Fox play with her?" 

"He'd like to... and I'm afraid saying more than that could compromise my identity --" 

"Yeah, yeah. That brings me to the *other* thing," she says, and wags a finger at him. "You should be one of *us*. You -- hell, there are probably things you could *teach* us, and there are sure as *hell* things we could teach you." 

"The JSA --" 

"Doesn't *like* it when people goose Alan's *ass* --" 

"It's really quite pert for a man his age." 

"It --" Dinah cuts herself off with a sigh. "It really is. Just -- not even all square and muscular like most guys that blond. His is really... really --" 

"Round." 

"*Generous*." 

"And incredibly firm, of course," Bruce says, and lets himself remember the feel of it, the heat of magic and that frightening *ring* -- 

Dinah sighs again. "Now he's nothing compared to *Ted*, but -- yeah. Not bad at all." 

"I've always wondered about him and Jay Garrick...?" 

Dinah snickers and looks down at the roof for a long moment -- and when she looks up, her expression is only shrewd again. "What's your name --" 

"I'm sorry --" 

"Keep wondering, then. Anyway -- you obviously don't *have* to let your dick run *every* conversation you have." 

"It seemed important --" 

"To make the Fox real as quickly and heavily as possible, and to do it with *everyone*. But -- look, you *have* to know that I'm not Canary with the JSA *or* the League. Not when we're off-duty." 

"You... socialize? When not working?" 

"Who else *would* I socialize with?" 

Who, indeed. 

She jabs his chest with her fingers. "Maybe you'd stop playing with criminals if you had some actual *friends*." 

To go without Selina -- 

But -- 

"Friends like you?" 

And Bruce is expecting a glare -- but what he gets is a giggle, high and sweet and *soft*. 

Bruce reaches out to touch Dinah's face again -- 

And Dinah catches his hand and squeezes it. "Your gloves are too rough. And -- yeah. Friends like me." 

Bruce takes his glove off and raises his eyebrow -- 

"*Do* you ever use more than just your fingers? And -- uh. I mean. It's okay if you don't. I mean, impotence runs through the community like a *virus* sometimes. It's the stress." 

Bruce blinks. "I...did have difficulty masturbating for several weeks after I took down that pedophile ring. The Fox couldn't -- I couldn't be the Fox for that." 

She nods and squeezes his hand sympathetically -- and brings it to her face. "You're good now?" 

"Yes. I -- time seemed to do the trick. Canary --" 

"Dinah while we're whispering." 

"Dinah, then --" 

"And -- time is the only guaranteed cure. But mellow, friendly orgies have also worked for a lot of us." 

Bruce blinks. "I... could you... describe that? I don't mean the details --" 

"I hear you. You -- mm. I love the way hands feel when they've been gloved up all night. *Soft*." 

"Yes. Yes, I. And the feel -- the wind has roughened your cheek to a certain extent. It's wonderful --" 

"It's a cause for *moisturizer* is what it is -- I. Anyway. It's like this: Everybody makes friends, but not everybody *is* friends with everybody else. So -- you get, say, Clark, Diana, me, and -- Flash --" 

"Barry Allen." 

"Okay, that's *creepy* --" 

"The Fox. The Fox is rarely creepy." 

Dinah frowns. "He is when you forget he's *you*." 

Bruce strokes the frown lines on her forehead -- "Noted. Please, tell me." 

She nods and reaches up to press Bruce's palm against her cheek -- 

"Oh. Like that?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. Uh. Okay, so Diana was having -- it gets bad for her a lot, because being in a world where men have had control for millennia is just... none of us can even imagine how bad it is for her. Not even me, and I've *been* to Themyscira." 

"Is it --" 

"It's incredible. And it makes me want to cry for how. How much I can't enjoy it -- " She shakes her head. "Anyway. Not that. Not now. She was having a tough time, and she'd lost -- she couldn't even, you know, masturbate." 

Bruce nods. "It's... incredibly disturbing to lose that." 

"Yeah, exactly. But *she* had had uninterrupted fun times for *three thousand years*." 

Bruce blinks. "She's *immortal*?" 

"She can be killed -- but not just anything or anyone can do it." 

That -- "It seems... I feel distinctly shamed not to already know this. And other things you've said." 

"You *should*. You -- no one can deny that you do good work --" 

"Thank you --" 

"But, look, there need to be as many of us as possible, because we all need as many *good* friends as possible, because --" 

"One never knows when one of... us will break. Or simply be mind-controlled." 

"Uh. That, too," Dinah says, and frowns at him. "I *was* just going to say something about us being human." 

"But some of us aren't." 

"You *know* Clark was raised by humans --" 

"What of the Manhunter? And, of course, there are all the metahumans." 

She narrows her eyes. "What do you have to say about metahumans, Fox."

The warning is explicit -- but. "It was merely... don't most metahumans refuse to be lumped in with humanity as a whole? In terms of species, I mean." 

Her eyes are *dark* with burgeoning anger --

"If I've offended --" 

"Are metahumans people to you, Fox?" 

"Of course. I would be lying if I said I wasn't grateful that so many of the metahuman criminals have left Gotham in peace, and lying even more egregiously if I said that I didn't fear some metahumans' powers, but I do try not to allow myself bigotry." 

She blinks -- "What does the Fox have to say about it?" 

"He's exceedingly interested in making love with a metahuman or alien, and then studying them without their knowledge." 

Dinah snorts and shoves Bruce back, laughing somewhat uncontrollably -- 

"Yes?" 

"I -- I --" She snickers more, flushing in the moonlight -- 

And Bruce can't keep himself from smiling back. He doesn't try -- 

"Like *you* wouldn't study them *while* you were fucking? Study *me*. *I'm* a metahuman." 

"Oh, I -- well, I'm not *more* sorry for having nearly offended, but --" 

"Yeah, I know, I *know*. Uh. My powers kicked in not long after puberty did. Power, I mean. *One* power." 

"Do you mind if I --" 

"Did you notice yourself hurting more than you should when I screamed?" 

"Yes. Your powers are vocal?" 

"I can shatter... all kinds of things. Fairly easily, actually. The difficulty is controlling it enough that I can keep from deafening people *while* I'm shattering the other things. I wouldn't let myself operate until I could." 

Bruce nods. "That's entirely sensible. Does... would you tell me how it feels?" 

Dinah's smile this time is gentle -- and she steps close again and brings Bruce's hand to her throat. "You tell me." 

Bruce feels the desire to blush -- 

And the Fox takes it from him, with petulance aforethought. 

"I meant... inside." 

She takes a deep breath, muscles of her throat moving against his fingers -- 

"Do you like --" 

"Your hand's getting too dry. Switch off." 

Bruce nods and does it -- and cups her throat. 

Dinah's eyes become heavy-lidded almost immediately -- 

She *presses* her throat against his hand -- 

"Dinah... I. This is dangerous --" 

"I have *other* weapons." 

"Of course, but --" 

"Clark keeps kryptonite for some of his lovers."

"What --" 

"To weaken him. To -- slow him down to something like *human*." 

"Oh. Oh. I see," Bruce says, and thinks about. "Once... one of the last times I made love with the man I'll always love..." 

"Yeah? Oh, I never finished telling you -- ah." 

"You first --" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Please," Bruce says, and leans in to kiss her temple, to smell her hair once more... "You used men's shampoo, as well. Very good." 

She laughs a little breathlessly -- 

Presses against his hand again -- 

"Thank you. We -- me and Barry and Clark -- we set up a whole thing for her. Clark's Fortress can do -- just amazing things. Amazing. It made up huge baths for her, with different temperatures of water, and different mixtures of... of minerals -- ah. Squeeze?" 

"How. How hard?" 

"Just -- a little --" 

Bruce squeezes gently -- 

And Dinah moans and wraps her hands around Bruce's forearm. She has large, strong hands. 

"You're beautiful --" 

"Yeah. I know. We... we all bathed her. At first we took turns -- touch my breast." 

"Which --" 

"Doesn't matter -- no, left --" 

Bruce cups her left breast with his gloved hand -- her nipple is noticeably hard even through the sturdy fabric of the sports brassiere. He rubs it -- 

"Ah -- oh, fuck -- " 

"Dinah --" 

"*Pinch* -- and we -- ohn -- oh -- we couldn't wait anymore. We all bathed her at once. I sucked her toes to get the taste of the water. Barry was licking her -- her *elbow* --" 

"Did she like --" 

"She laughed at us. She laughed and then she cried." 

Bruce gasps -- 

"Yeah. I -- *harder* --" 

"Let me bare you --" 

"Not yet. Not -- just harder -- *ahn* -- fuck, I *love* that --" 

Bruce licks her mouth -- 

Dinah kisses him hard, closing her eyes and *seeking* with her tongue. Is she looking for the taste of him?

The taste of his resolve?

Bruce squeezes and pinches at once, and, when she gasps, he strokes the inner surfaces of her mouth with his tongue. The Fox is seeking power. Bruce is seeking something -- 

Something better than that. Something that still smells like flowers -- or like the inside of Ted Grant's gymnasium. 

He kisses her harder, walking her back against one of the water tower's supports. There's a creaking metallic groan and a brief shower of rust -- he won't be rough with her *here*. 

Instead, he massages her breast and presses his thumb into the hollow of her suprasternal notch -- 

And she groans for him, presses closer -- pulls back. "We held her." 

"Of course --" 

"For a long -- Clark reheated the water with his eyes. She told us about... about this *family* of rapists she'd found, and the women they'd imprisoned. She told us about their *eyes*." 

"The worst. The worst possible -- the Fox doesn't know --" 

"But you do. Right?" 

Bruce breathes and frowns -- but he knows. It's *always* in the eyes, and there have been times -- 

So many times when he's searched for the *words* -- and could only find the inadequate and pathetic moments of loss within himself, moments of undeservedly bleak *nothingness* -- 

And he can only imagine what it is to have something like that last, to have something like that *become* the entirety of life -- "I know." 

Dinah nods. "When it was over -- we held her more. She cried more. Clark heated the water too high and we looked like lobsters. And then she *ordered* us to touch her. We -- it was the first time I'd made love to a woman." 

"You liked --" 

"Her taste. Her -- she's so *strong*. I kept telling myself to imagine a man's hands in my hair -- fuck, I can't --" She steps back and strips down quickly until she's wearing only the brassiere and the fishnets. No panties. 

No panties -- and the fishnets have no crotch. 

She's shaved her pubic hair to a vertical strip down the center of her mound, and her lips are pink and faintly puffy -- 

"*Well*?" 

"I don't -- usually show very much of my body. The armor is --" 

"Your dick?" 

Bruce opens himself and reveals his own -- bare-shaven -- mound and half-hard penis. 

She narrows her eyes -- "You're not a natural redhead?" 

"I don't take chances by leaving hairs --" 

"You could -- and *do* -- lose hairs from your head... and those aren't yours, either." 

The Fox winks. 

She giggles and pulls off the brassiere-- and then unfolds the roll of fabric which had been beneath her mashed breasts to reveal... 

A corset. A -- "No armor at *all*?" 

"Mom never needed it, *and* I'm better trained and more powerful than she ever was." 

"Still --" 

"I'm not having this argument with you. No offense." 

Bruce takes a deep breath and nods. "My apologies. Do you find my penis --" 

"Huge? Intimidating? Interestingly veiny? Yes, yes, and yes. Put your cape down for us." 

"Dinah..." 

"Or are you about to beg off? What *about* that man of yours?" 

Bruce shivers and squeezes himself. "I came back here several times during my travels. I..." He releases himself and pulls off his cape, laying it down next to the pile of Dinah's discarded disguise. He kneels on his cape and looks up at her. "Dinah. Let me taste you." 

She grins. "Maybe you're not as good as Green Arrow." 

"Oliver Queen. Interesting. He's always seemed far more selfish..." Bruce shakes his head. "I've never made love to a woman with my mouth. I want to. Badly."

She narrows her eyes again, parts her lips -- and steps closer.

Close enough that Bruce can *smell* her -- and the musk here has a quality that speaks of *lengthy* arousal. Hm. "You enjoyed the Fox." 

"I enjoyed his -- *your* moves -- tell me about your man." 

"I learned escape artistry from a circus in the Ukraine --" 

"You snuck into the *U.S.S.R*?" 

"It was a challenge I needed -- I needed to know I could. I -- there were things I couldn't learn no matter how hard I worked. Things impossible for a man of my size and relative lack of flexibility --" 

"I've *seen* your flexibility. I..." She cups the top of Bruce's head and *grinds* against his face.

Bruce moans and nuzzles as best he can -- 

"More, tell me more --" 

"Please --" 

"*More* --" 

"I taught -- I taught him how to tie me. How to leave me helpless. I told him it was... something I'd seen in a magazine. Please --" 

She grinds harder, this time bending back enough to slide her lips against Bruce's mouth -- 

Bruce *sucks* -- 

She cries out -- and pulls back. "Tell me *more*." 

Bruce breathes and licks his lips, searches for *tang* -- "Your sweat. I love the taste of your *sweat*." 

"You're a pervert, but so are *all* of us, so -- c'mon, c'mon, you'll get me off --" 

"Just... hearing about me making love with a man?" 

"A *civilian* man. A -- is he hot?" 

"He's the most beautiful man I've ever known. He... strangers walk up to him and compliment him on his beauty --" 

"Tall?" 

"Yes. Two inches shorter than me. He is... rangy in form. Barely so. He works too hard and loses too much weight, but he's never quite lean --" 

"More more --" 

"He is... he tans well in the summer months. He turns... bronze. Golden in those areas which rarely see sun. His penis is long and slender. I begged him for it that night. I begged him to fill me, to *take* me --" 

"The Fox --" 

"I nearly cursed him and told him to *fuck* me, to *use* me as I deserved, *only* as I deserved. I was helpless, and I hadn't felt so in years. And he was so beautiful rising above me, whispering my name as he stroked himself harder to catch *up* to me. *Please* --" 

Dinah grunts and pushes two fingers between her lips, moving them back and forth -- 

"You must be. Very slick now --" 

"Yeah -- yeah, just a minute. Tell me *more* --" 

"He slicked me perfunctorily. I'd told him not to do it, at all. I cried out for every second his long, graceful fingers were inside me --" 

Dinah cries out and pulls her hand away from herself -- and then paints Bruce's lips with her fingers. "Almost there. Right?" 

Bruce licks his lips and shudders, sways -- "He tried to quiet me. He begged me to stop begging. I couldn't. I was... there were tears in my eyes. He flipped me over onto my knees and it choked me -- not much. Enough. The ropes, I mean. I -- please --" 

"*More* --" 

"He *shoved* himself inside me, cursing and crying out. He beat at the walls until he gained control of himself. Then he clawed my hips as he slammed in over and *over* again --" 

"Your -- your *name* --" 

"He *sobbed* it as he thrust, and then began sobbing apologies as he took me harder still --" 

"Fucked you -- fucked you into next *week* --" 

Bruce laughs and groans. "It *hurt*. It hurt until it ached, and still I could only beg for more, and more than that --" 

"Who came first?" 

"He did. With a *filthy* curse and a desperate groan. He collapsed on top of me -- Dinah..." 

"You're gonna get me off *quick*, so even your *complete* lack of -- fuck, don't make me *talk reasonably*," she says, giggling and tossing her short hair. "How did he get you off?" 

"He told me he couldn't pull out, yet. So I began to squeeze him, to *milk* him as he stroked me so that he wouldn't stop *cursing* --" 

"Then I won't, either," she says, gripping his scarf once more and straddling his face. "Suck my little dick, Foxy, do it like you'd do your *boyfriend* -- *nnh* -- oh -- oh, Jesus fucking --" 

Bruce hums the way Harvey likes -- 

The way that makes Harvey *grip* his hair -- 

The way Dinah is gripping him, *riding* him -- 

"Hnh -- *hnh* -- oh, so -- c'mon, *tongue* -- *ooh* --" 

Bruce laps at the tight, tender flesh between his lips, alternating with long *sweeps* of his tongue. He tries to use the different textures -- 

"Fox -- oh, *Fox* --" 

And the Fox growls for Dinah, grips her hips and pulls back enough to nuzzle her, to shove his tongue *in* -- 

"*Ahn* -- *no* --" 

He growls again -- 

"*Fuck* -- just *suck* --" 

The Fox sucks in sharp pulses, swallowing and doing his best to coat his mustache in her fluids -- 

Her *juices* -- 

Nothing like wine, nothing like the *sea*. Something sharper and muskier than that, younger and *fresher* -- 

And she's crying out for every pulse, bucking as much as riding -- 

Yes. Yes -- 

The Fox slips his gloved fingers between her cheeks and *presses* on her tight little hole -- 

She cries out again -- 

And this time his *bones* vibrate in his flesh. The Fox draws back to study, to examine -- 

The loss of control. Orgasm, then, and how had she taught herself to do *this* safely? 

She cries out again and the water tower groans *alarmingly* -- 

Again and something in his back armor *cracks* -- 

And then she stumbles back and pants, bending over with her palms flat to her thighs. 

Bruce opens his mouth to suggest she straighten, but she does it herself after a moment -- and grins at him. 

And shakes her finger at him. "Pussy isn't everything, guy." 

"Hm. 'Guy?'" 

"I'm afraid of what'll happen the next time I call you 'Fox.'" 

"You shouldn't be," the Fox says, and offers a grin of his own. "A tough girl like you should *never* be scared of a good, hard fuck." 

Dinah raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly at -- Bruce's penis. 

"Or perhaps a slow, leisurely, *gentle*... bout of lovemaking?" 

She snorts -- "*Ow*," and she rubs her nose. "*Is* that what you want?" 

"It also occurs to me that it would be less frightening to have fellatio performed on me if it was done by a woman with no reason to want me injured." 

Dinah grins and rubs her hands together. "That's more like it -- because *I* don't carry enough lube on me for that monster." 

"I do. And lubricated condoms --" 

"How many criminals have you been fucking?" 

"Only the one... but the Fox has an image to maintain. Gorgeous." 

Dinah licks her teeth -- and then she's speed and grace in motion. Bruce can track the moves which lead to him being kicked -- mostly gently -- onto his back, but they come in no familiar rhythm or order. 

A spar with her would provide something of a challenge... and that makes Bruce rise more, and the Fox rise *differently*. "How much violence do you need...? Or do you just like men on their backs?" 

"Heh. I like both," Dinah says, and takes him in hand before squeezing *hard* -- 

The Fox grunts and shows his teeth. "Love your *hands* --" 

"The violence, the domination issues -- you gotta have 'em for this life, Foxy." 

"You don't say..." 

"I *do* say," and she wraps her other hand around him as well before beginning to *work* him, squeezing *just* to the fair side of too hard and sliding the pre-come around and around -- 

The Fox licks his lips. "Who dominates you, gorgeous? Who shows you who's boss?" 

"What's your name?" 

"The Fox --" 

"Then you don't get to know," she says, pulling her upper hand back and licking the palm and fingers. That -- 

The Fox watches, watches and *wants* -- "Suck me." 

"Say please --" 

"No." 

She pants, breasts bouncing just enough to make the Fox twitch in her hand -- "Say you want it." 

"I want you. To suck. My dick." 

*She* growls -- and moves her hand to the Fox's balls -- 

Before swallowing Bruce's penis. Just -- 

That -- 

Only Harvey --

*Only* Harvey, because Selina had taken him in teasing gulps -- 

Bruce groans and arches -- 

And Dinah cups his hips and uses a significant fraction of her weight in an attempt to force Bruce back down. 

He -- "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," and he lowers himself as much -- 

He shouts for the feel of her squeezing his scrotum -- 

He clutches at his own cape and *shudders* for the heat, the *moving* wetness -- her tongue, her perfect -- "Dinah --" 

And then he's groaning again, because the force of her suction is -- is -- 

"I want to know who *taught* you." 

She pulls back until only the head is in her mouth, tongues *viciously* at the meatus -- and shakes her head with an avidly cruel look in her eyes. She -- 

"It was one of us." 

A nod. 

"He... was he *rough* with you?" 

A slow, *slurping* suck -- 

Bruce grunts and sits up, cupping her face with both hands -- 

And she shivers and goes back down, down and down -- 

Selina's lips had felt softer on his mound.

Harvey's lips had felt more... more *hungry* -- 

"Shall I. Shall I tell you more about my love?" 

She meets his eyes and scrapes him with her *teeth* -- 

"*Hnh*. I must confess -- I'm not at all sure whether that was a yes or a no." 

She giggles around him and coughs -- 

Giggles more and *hums* -- 

"I would -- would *shout* your name --" 

A brief headshake -- 

"Please. Please, I." And Bruce pushes his hands into her short, tousled hair, gripping lightly -- 

Another shiver. Another... 

"I believe I see. I believe... that you're a gorgeous little thing," the Fox says. "Really sweet and *soft* inside. That pretty, pretty mouth. That... hnn." And the Fox rocks his hips twice *testingly* -- but not cautiously. 

Not -- 

Dinah *grunts* for him, or for -- 

"There's nothing like sucking dick, is there, gorgeous? Nothing like opening wide for something thick and hot and *hard*. Just for you." 

She nods *fervently* -- 

And the Fox holds her head still for just a moment. A *long* moment. "What if I want you like this, gorgeous?" 

She looks up at him from under her lashes -- and he wants to know her well enough to be *sure* that that expression is a dare, wants this to come without -- 

Without the risk of damaging what could become a friendship, something -- "I've been more honest with you than I have with anyone since I was a teenager," Bruce blurts --

He's blushing and *shaking* -- 

He lets go of her head and she pulls back. "Okay. Are you okay?"

"I --" 

"*Think* about it for a second before you answer," she says, and licks her lips. They're slightly swollen now, as puffy as... as... 

"I *want* you --" 

"Not what I asked --" 

"It's only -- I lost control because I couldn't be sure you wanted that level of... play from me." 

She laughs and licks her lips. "Think about who I *play* with on a regular basis --" 

"I'd like to know more." 

"I'd like to know your *name*. And Fox? I'll hurt you if you do something -- or say something -- I *don't* like." 

Bruce pants. Bruce -- 

Selina *could* do the same with him, but it wouldn't *feel* the same. It would be a wound from a lover rather than a friend -- 

Does he *want* her to be his friend? 

Does he want Dinah to be his lover? Bruce cups Dinah's face again and breathes until he can be confident, rich within himself, *bold* -- "Take a deep breath, gorgeous." 

"And if I don't want to?" 

"I'm *not* gonna let you up again... unless you bore me." 

An aborted snort -- and the light in her eyes twinkles with good humor. 

"Liked that, did you? *Breathe*." 

And she parts her lips and does it through her mouth. He wants to see her in lipstick, rouge -- 

No, not rouge. She colors too easily and well -- 

But rouge could help *disguise* that. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. 

But the Fox knows that he wants her painted prettier than a whore, wants her to deny her age -- is she even seventeen? 

And she's still breathing through her mouth. She -- 

"Good enough," the Fox says, and pulls her down onto his dick, down and down until she has every inch of him in her tight, deadly throat. She -- "*Suck*." 

She does just that, and the suction is weaker than what it had been on the head, but that isn't -- 

That simply isn't -- 

The Fox grunts and leans back enough to see her -- "Open your eyes --" 

And they flicker between sharpness and an aroused *haze* -- 

"Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous on my dick -- and you know it, don't you?" He eases his grip a *little* -- 

She nods *slowly*, working her mouth, her -- 

"Pretty little mouth. Pretty -- suck harder or I don't let you go without a spanking --" 

And she opens her mouth. She -- 

The Fox growls with *wild* pleasure and pulls her up and off. He wrestles her carefully, not wanting to abrade her flesh too badly as they roll beyond the edges of his cape -- 

She laughs and *fights* him -- 

She meets his eyes and grins like an animal, predator, beautiful -- 

The Fox uses a bolo to tie her wrists together and *throws* her over his lap. The strip of her pubic hair tickles the head of his dick -- 

Her muscles flex and release and flex *again* -- 

She spreads her *legs* -- 

And the Fox learns to purr. He spanks her with his glove on, and doesn't bother to try to hide how much it arouses -- 

How much it turns him *on* to hear the slaps and cracks of flesh being -- 

Being *abused* -- 

She's quieter for this than she had been for having her clit sucked, but she's grunting for every hit, every open-handed *slap* -- 

Oh, but -- 

He spanks her lips *lightly* -- and her fluids soak into the material of the glove, soak and stretch translucent strings of -- 

"Gonna fuck you, gorgeous..." 

She jerks for that -- 

"Gonna do it... mm. Nice and hard..." 

"Fox -- I -- *unh* --" 

That for the harder spank to her lips, her soft and sticky -- 

"What if I use your *ass* --" 

"No! You're way too big -- uh. Just, you know. A little poking and prodding with your *fingers* is fine, but -- " She looks back over her shoulder with a rueful smile. "Sorry." 

Bruce licks the Fox's lips -- and nods. And then the Fox pushes him back. "Just your pretty pink pussy, then. Just -- mm. I think you need to hurt a little more first, gorgeous." 

She pants and groans -- 

"I think..." And the Fox peels his glove off with his teeth -- the taste of her there is salt and *hot* -- and cups her ass with his sweat-dampened hand. "I think you need it bad." 

"Fox, I -- please." 

"Please...?" 

"Please *hard*," she says, and the Fox twitches for it, and Bruce stares and stares, stares and *needs* -- 

And the Fox spanks her *roughly*, *loudly*, making her ass pink -- 

Making it *red* in spots -- 

She cries out and another piece of the Fox's armor cracks -- 

He's going to have to go *home* after this -- 

And so he spanks her harder, *faster* -- 

"Ow ow *please* --" 

"*Yeah*," and the Fox moves her, throws her down on the cape on her belly -- no.

He flips her onto her back and lifts her legs into the air, gripping her ankles in one hand and staring, only staring -- 

"Can't tell that you're all shaved up from this angle, gorgeous..." 

"Nnh -- Clark likes it --" 

"Does he. Do you think he knows I'm about to play with his toy?" 

Her growl *becomes* a moan -- 

"*Answer* me." 

"Not -- not *his* --" 

"Uncle Ted's then. With his big, big hands..." And the Fox slips two fingers within her, pushes *deep* -- 

"Oh fuck -- *fuck* --" 

"Does he let you curse?" 

"*Fox* --" 

"Does he hurt you the right way?" 

She tosses her head and tries to arch -- so the Fox bends her knees down to her chest. 

"Rock like a baby, gorgeous. You *know* he likes that..." 

She's flushed now -- but blushing, too. Her eyes are squeezed shut.

"You're the prettiest baby I know, gorgeous," and he starts thrusting, starts *twisting* -- 

She moans and fights his grip on her ankles -- but not as hard as she can. The Fox squeezes harder and pulls out, sucking his fingers and wanting, *wanting* -- 

"Tell me a story," he says, and the Bruce inside him honestly never believed that he would *need* to know how to put on a condom one-handed -- 

But the Fox had learned anyway. He drags the head of his dick along the length of Dinah's clit, down to press at the opening to her pussy, up to *prod* at her clit -- 

"C'mon, gorgeous --" 

"Fuck -- fuck --" 

"How old were you when you lost it?" 

"How old were *you*?" 

The Fox smiles. "I've been restraining pretty girls like you for a *real* long time --" 

"How old was the *nice* guy?" 

"Sixteen and horny as a goat. He would've fucked a tree if the wind blew the branches seductively enough." 

Dinah laughs -- "I was fourteen --" 

"Did it hurt?"

"*Fuck* -- yes. Yeah. Don't make me *wait* --" 

"Was it Ted?" 

"What's your *name*?" 

"I'm the high-flying Fox, gorgeous," and he slips in so -- 

Slowly -- 

"Nnn. You're still nice and tight. You're --" 

She squeezes him *hard* -- 

And the Fox has to laugh for the force of it, the raw and human *power* -- "I *see*. But you don't wanna squeeze too hard, gorgeous --" 

"Why -- " 

The Fox growls and *thrusts* -- 

And she cries out high and loud enough to make the city around them seem quietly irrelevant, beautifully *dark* against her pale pink skin -- 

"That hurt, didn't it." 

"Yes -- fuck, I -- I *forgot* --" 

"You're just a little girl..." 

"I'm *not* --" 

"It's *easy* to make mistakes," and the Fox is reveling in this, burning for it and burning *hotter* as he thrusts, as he works his hips *slowly* -- 

She clenches again -- 

"Ah-ah-ah..." And the Fox *grinds* in, thrusts harder -- 

"Hnh -- *please* --" 

"Tell me a story, gorgeous. Make it... make it *hot*." 

She cries out and fights the grip on her ankles *hard* -- 

The Fox lets go -- 

And she rests her legs on his shoulders, drums her... her hard little heels -- 

"*Do* it, Dinah --" 

"Diana. She -- she fisted me --" 

"*Nnh*. Small hands?"

"Not small *enough*, I -- oh, fuck, she made me *beg* --" 

The Fox licks his lips and thrusts faster -- 

Bruce wants more. *Now* -- 

"Tell me -- where --" 

"The Fortress --" 

"*Positions* --" 

Dinah sobs and *rocks* for him, bends her legs back again and *holds* them there -- 

"*Tell* me --" 

"Hands -- she told me that I looked too good on my knees not to *stay* there -- *ohn* --" 

That for the feel of him twitching inside her? Maybe. Maybe -- 

"She pushed me down on my hands --" 

"Did you *like* it." 

"Oh. Oh. Fox?" 

Bruce gasps a laugh. "Not quite. Not... oh, Dinah, so *beautiful* --" 

"So *big*, I -- tell me your *name* --" 

"I *can't*, but -- but I will. Someday. When I *know* you better --" 

She laughs and gasps, laughs again and *groans* -- 

"Perhaps -- perhaps that *was* ridiculous --" 

"*Fuck* me --"

"Tell me *more*," Bruce says and braces himself above her, looks down into her eyes -- 

A part of him only wants to know how long they've been on this rooftop, how long they can *stay* -- 

"*More*," and he thrusts faster, thrusts *harder*. She's wet and growing wetter with each sweet and wonderful *push* -- 

Dinah pants and squeezes her eyes shut again -- "She started -- started with three fingers --" 

"Right away." 

"*Yes*. She -- she fucking *reamed* me," and Dinah giggles and cries out -- 

"Did she. Did you sound like this?" 

"Yes -- yes --" 

"Dinah, I want to be your *friend* --" 

"Friends have *names* --" 

"*Bruce*," and Bruce tugs her legs down and kisses her -- 

Bruce grinds in and *kisses* her, licks her mouth and swallows her cries as he thrusts harder -- 

Over and over -- 

She shoves him back -- 

"*Dinah* --" 

"*Bruce* -- oh, fuck, that felt good to *say* --" And she giggles more, pants and beams at him -- "Get *off* in me." 

"Do you like --" 

"Oh -- fuck, you're using a condom -- I'm not gonna steal your *sperm*!" 

The Fox grins. "Can't be too careful these days, sweetness --" 

"You're so *fucked* --" 

"That makes two of us, I believe," and Bruce thrusts his fingers into her hair and rides -- 

And rides -- 

And loses himself to the sound of their mingled groans -- 

Her sweet *cries* -- 

Clark Kent had heard this.

Ted had heard this.

Diana of Themyscira -- 

And he can see Dinah on her hands and knees, see her eyes widening as Diana pushed in -- forced in? -- the fourth finger -- 

See her -- 

"Did you *cry*." 

"Wha -- ohn -- oh, fuck -- yeah, I did, I did so *much* --" 

Bruce groans and twitches again -- 

Again and *again* -- 

"She -- she licked my tears up after --" 

"Her -- her *smile* --" 

"*Teasing*. And satisfied, like I'd gone down on her for an hour -- she got off just fucking me --" 

"Untouched?" 

"She stretched me so -- I think she doesn't *need* it --" 

"The way you do." 

"The way *you* do, Bruce, ohn -- oh, God, you're so fucking *big* --" 

"You're -- swelling. I feel you. So warm and *soft* --" 

She laughs at him again, tosses her head -- "*Come* --" 

"I want *more* --" 

"She put an ivory collar around my neck." 

Bruce grunts and *stares* -- 

And Dinah smiles even while she winces, smiles *through* her winces -- "She led me... around on a *leash*." 

"*Dinah* --" 

"Hands and knees. All the way. All the way around the headquarters --" 

Bruce -- Bruce can't find his rhythm -- 

"Another ivory toy in my *ass*. Slim and -- fuck -- oh, fuck, so *hard* --" 

Bruce can't think, can't -- 

"A -- a -- something thick in my pussy, thick and -- I could squeeze it -- oh, *please* --" 

And he can see her -- 

He can feel the *tug* of her on the leash -- and it would be leather -- 

He can feel himself guiding her around and around, pausing to converse with this hero or that one, pausing to offer -- 

Offer her *services* -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

He kisses her hard, he -- 

He makes love to her mouth and he tries to hold on, tries to give, tries to -- 

She tosses her head -- 

Bruce kisses her *harder*, holds her -- holds her *still* -- 

And Bruce never, ever wants to feel his teeth -- all of them -- rattle in his head like this again, but the feel of her clenching randomly and viciously as she comes to her second orgasm -- 

The feel of her driving him, driving him *on* -- 

"*Thank* you," Bruce says, and "please, please so *beautiful* --" 

"Ahn -- *ahn* --" 

He kisses her -- 

He tries to promise her that he'll always keep this within him, that the Fox will whisper about her only to arouse and inflame, that *he* will find it difficult not to be aroused the next time something cracks his armor -- 

Oh, thank you, thank you so *much* -- 

And he throws his head back -- 

And he opens his eyes -- 

But not even the sight of Clark Kent wearing his Superman guise and *hovering* above the roof is enough to keep him from shouting his pleasure to the night -- 

From filling her -- 

Oh, but she'd wanted him to be *bare* -- 

The Fox growls for the very -- the very *thought* -- 

And he spills -- 

And he *spills* -- 

And Clark lands more softly than a feather could before deliberately scraping his boot on the rooftop grit. 

Dinah reacts immediately, bending her legs back and kicking Bruce upright -- 

"I'd tell you not to worry, Canary, but I could honestly watch you kicking that man every *day*." 

"*Shit* -- *Clark*!" Dinah hisses the name -- *almost* quietly enough -- and tries to twist around --

Bruce cups her hips. "Please breathe." 

"How did you manage to get off with him -- I can *feel* him Supermanning at us!" 

Bruce smiles and strokes her cheek. "I had excellent motivation. However, I find that I'd rather have the upcoming conversation while upright." 

Dinah snickers. "I'll just *bet*. One sec," she says, breathing deep -- 

And pushing in such a way that Bruce can't help but be sure that she'll have a relatively easy labor should she decide to bear a child. 

The Fox wants him to never, ever say that out loud, which is reasonable enough. Unless, of course, she *wants* to talk about natural childbirth -- 

And the truth is that he would think about most anything to avoid giving in to the feeling of loss as he pulls out. Still, she sighs when he *is* out, pats her swollen lips -- and winks at him. 

Bruce smiles and strokes her cheek once more before standing and dealing with the condom. After that, he wipes himself down, tucks condom and wipe away, and closes his pants. After *that*, he picks up and shakes out his cape -- it's merely coincidence that the wind blows the grit toward Kent -- and then waits for Dinah to dress. 

The corset has a hidden zipper at the crotch. It -- 

Bruce thinks he would remember if her mother had something similar. In fact, he's sure of it. 

After Dinah is dressed, he offers her his arm -- 

She grins and takes it -- 

And they move to stand in front of Kent, who is glaring somewhat indiscriminately. Bruce opens his mouth -- 

And Dinah thumps Kent's chest. "Come *on*, Clark! It's not like he's a *bad* guy." 

Kent narrows his eyes. "Did you give him your name?" 

"I didn't *have* to. And why didn't you tell me he was at Mom's funeral?" 

*That* makes Kent blink -- and turn to give him a narrow look. "You gave her your identity?" 

"Half of it," the Fox says, and raises an eyebrow. "I *enjoy* making new friends, Kent. Perhaps you'd care to give me another chance...?" 

Kent *snarls* -- 

And the Fox grins. "Aw, don't be like *that*, Clarkie. It was just a little harmless fun," and he makes a point of looking down. "Or not so little at all, as the case may be." 

Dinah snorts -- 

"Listen to me, Fox. I've tolerated your -- abominable behavior --" 

"Are we really going to talk about *that* now, Clarkie? Word is you still owe a certain pimp in Metropolis for putting several of his boys out of work for *days*." 

"I *never* fail to compensate --" Kent cuts himself off with a growl. "My private life is none of your business, Mr. *Wayne*." 

Dinah coughs. "Bruce *Wayne*? Are you *serious*?" And she reaches up to tug on his mustache -- 

Bruce catches her hand. "Please don't. The glue I use is quite sturdy, save when sprayed with certain solvents," and the Fox turns back to Kent. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you learned my identity, pretty boy. The question is what you're going to *do* with it." 

"Whatever I see *fit*." 

"How *would* Martha and Jonathan feel about those pictures I have of you with --" 

"*Enough*," Dinah says, and shoves them away from each other by dint of wedging herself between them. 

The Fox wants Bruce to know that that's a pleasant thought, and that's more than worth a laugh. And really -- 

Truly --

"I have a patrol to do, and I believe the two of you do, as well," Bruce says, and bends to kiss the back of Dinah's hand. "Please, feel free to make an appointment with my social secretary, Miss Lance. I promise you won't have a very long wait." 

Dinah looks at him as if he's *mad* again -- 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- 

"Don't you get *whiplash*?" 

"Do you think I should?" 

"The man is an overgrown, hyper-wealthy *dilettante* --" 

"Clark, if he really was? He would've gotten himself *killed*. A *lot*. Because none of us would've been here to *save* him." 

Clark flares his nostrils -- 

His perfect, almost *stereotypically* heroic features are truly... 

The Fox smiles. "I don't think the lady wants your protection, pretty boy... but we can negotiate, if --" 

"Actually, the lady *absolutely* wants his protection, but only at times when it's *reasonable*." 

Kent frowns and stops glaring at him to focus on her. "Dinah, this man -- he's been having a sexual relationship with a *criminal*." 

So he's been watching. Interesting...

"Because none of us have *ever* put the fuck in fraternize?" 

"*I* haven't -- and neither have you. This woman --" 

"Clark. I -- no," Dinah says, and turns to Bruce. "What did she do?" 

"She has a taste for expensive and beautiful jewelry... and small works of art." 

"And?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "And what?" 

"No setting fire to orphanages? Maiming cops? Making fun of your mustache? It's a great mustache." 

"Thank you kindly," Bruce says, and inclines his head. "I haven't researched her as deeply as I've researched Mr. Kent, but no, none of those. She also doesn't seem to be a serial murderer of nuns, or... a molester of underaged prostitutes." 

Dinah bites her lip. "Okay, I should've seen that one coming, but --" She coughs and turns to pat Clark's chest. "We know you always show them a good time, Clark." 

Kent narrows his eyes -- and there is a very faint glow. "I apologize." 

The Fox blinks. "Well. I can honestly say that I didn't expect to hear that from *you*, sweetness --" 

"Don't push it." 

The Fox tilts his chin up and smiles. "Clark. Dinah seems to think that I ought to be one of you --" 

"Don't. Push it." 

"*Clark* --" 

"Dinah, I will always be happy when you are *made* happy by someone, whoever that someone turns out to be," Clark says, and cups her shoulders. "However, this man has deep, dangerous problems --" 

"He's just like the rest of us! Kinky, violent, and crazy!" 

Kent looks *pained*. "Dinah, please. You -- you're still very young, and --" Kent stops for the raise of her eyebrow -- and blushes. "You're absolutely right; nothing good could have come from that sentence." 

"I'm glad you figured that out *quickly*." 

"He does everything quickly, gorgeous. Or haven't you noticed?" 

Another flare of red -- 

"Oh, *Clark* -- *Bruce* --" Dinah walks away from both of them and rubs her temples. "Seriously, fuck you guys." 

"Dinah --" 

"Gorgeous --" 

"*No*," she says -- 

And the casing on his lead-lined pocket shatters audibly-- 

And Kent has no sooner covered his ears than he's dropping to his knees and groaning. 

Dinah looks *confused* -- 

But Bruce can feel the pieces of lead jingle and clank together, and -- yes. "I believe it's time I depart. Do give my regards to Mr. Kent... once he's recovered." 

"Wait, you have *kryptonite* on you somewhere?" 

"I... *told*... you..." 

Bruce frowns down at Kent, giving himself a moment to wonder how much of the man's reaction is real, versus how much he's playing for Dinah's sympathy... 

In the end, he has no way to know for sure. He puts distance between himself and Kent by taking to the side of the roof which is *closest* to the areas he needs to at least *look* at before returning home -- 

"Bruce, *say* something!" 

"Every last one of you ought to have a supply of kryptonite. We've already discussed why." 

She rears back as if he's *slapped* her, and that -- 

Bruce reaches out -- 

And Kent struggles to his feet -- 

And falls down again. He -- 

Dinah rushes to his side. 

Bruce frowns and dives off the side of the roof.


	5. Chapter 5

He'd decided to make it an early night last night, and so he reads of the night's various crimes over coffee with a profound sense of failure -- and an equally profound lack of surprise. 

A tenement burnt to the ground. Three deaths, all elderly women.

A makeshift bomb killing four would-be terrorists -- or possibly vigilantes -- *near* Arkham Asylum.

Four carjackings in the Little Hellespont. 

A spree of drug store robberies -- no deaths, but enough ephedrine and pseudoephedrine on the street to stock four exceedingly *productive* meth labs for most of a month. 

He pauses to consider flying out to Keystone for long enough to harangue Barry Allen about letting all of those 'chefs' get out from under his police force -- 

And perhaps to suggest he grow his hair enough to resemble someone who lives in *this* decade -- 

Bruce frowns and puts the newspaper down. He's not angry at anyone save himself, and, considering his nightly wardrobe choices, he really has no right to take anyone to task for anachronism. 

The Fox insists that some styles are *timeless*... 

As timeless as Chanel... 

It *would* be comforting to call Mother again, but it's really too soon. She would only worry. 

He'd like to hug someone. 

Bruce looks up, but his mood has apparently chased Alfred away. Or it could be the fact that he hasn't eaten any of his eggs Florentine. Alfred can easily grow offended at that sort of thing, and -- 

And he eats, because he won't be having lunch with Selina until at least two-thirty, and an early night meant that he'd woken relatively early, and -- 

Had he cheated on her? 

Had the Fox? 

Is it *possible* for the Fox to cheat on someone? 

The Fox himself believes the concept to be laughable, but the man *can* be self-serving in several respects. Would there be a way to *ask* Selina about it? To... work it into conversation? 

Bruce pauses and chews thoughtfully -- 

And Alfred comes back in. "Ah, Master Bruce. Were your eggs overly warm?" 

"No, Alfred. I'm afraid I was simply still somewhat grumpy after last night." 

Alfred blinks at him -- and takes a deep breath. "Is there... forgive me sir, but will I *regret* asking if there is something with which I can be of assistance?" 

"I'm... not sure?" 

Alfred sighs. "Very well. Consider the question asked, please." 

"Well... first. How does one go about ascertaining whether a woman minds one being... unfaithful?" 

Alfred blinks at him again. "Master Bruce, have you met someone *else*?" 

*Bruce* blinks -- but Alfred is not, actually, a metahuman with the power of omniscience. "Yes, Alfred. Dinah Lance's daughter is the new Black Canary. That is to say, there *is* a new Black Canary --" 

"Yes, sir. I -- my word, I was not aware the young miss had reached *adulthood*." 

"Well, she is quite young. Seventeen, I believe." 

"Master Bruce, she is much *too* young for you --" 

"I believe she would disagree with that vehemently, Alfred --" 

"*Teenagers* often disagree with good sense, sir. It is a defining characteristic of the *breed*. You... did you..." Alfred shakes his head briskly. "You will explain to young Miss Lance --" 

"Her name is Dinah, as well." 

"Americans can be terribly unimaginative, but *that* is neither here nor there. You will explain to the young Miss that a romantic relationship between the two of you is inappropriate, but that you would be more than happy to be her... friend... Master Bruce, *why* are you blushing?" 

Bruce coughs into his hand. His throat... well, it *tickles* -- 

"Oh, dear Lord. You were *not* with Miss Kyle last night?" 

"No, Alfred." 

"Master Bruce, what were you *thinking*?" 

"I... I believe most of the thoughts I had which would be appropriate material for a conversation over breakfast revolved around how *wise* she was, Alfred. She understood me almost immediately. She understood the... the *schisms* within me, and the doubts and fears I've had, and the difficulties I've had in terms of the world's other heroes --" 

"The difficulties you've had were *planned*, sir!" 

"Yes, Alfred, and I believe they were *poorly* planned." Bruce shakes his head. "I'm not sure I can agree with how some of them negotiate their lives, but others... Alfred, they *socialize* with each other. They're friends -- *good* friends. They spend time with each other, and ease each other's hurts, and make love --" 

"She is a *teenager*, Master Bruce!" 

"And she was infinitely more experienced than I was. I... she made me feel as though I had been playing a *game* with the past three years, that I wasn't truly *using* all I had learned, or..." Bruce frowns and considers. "She spoke of sharing knowledge." 

"You can *do* that while your trousers remain *closed*, sir." 

Bruce nods. "Yes, but I don't believe I wish to. She's quite beautiful, Alfred. Beautiful and... free. When Kent came to scold her for her behavior with me --" 

"The *pedophile* was there?" 

"Yes, Alfred, and he seems to have a truly *fascinating* moral code," Bruce says, and sips his coffee. "Dinah refused to allow him to insult me, but the Fox insisted on baiting the man again..." Bruce sighs. "She grew angry with both of us, and used her power -- she's a metahuman, by the way -- to get us to listen to her. Unfortunately, it also caused the lead in my pocket to shatter." 

Alfred closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I suppose I should be pleased that my assumption that you had been *shot* at again was incorrect." 

"Oh, I was shot at by any number of people --" 

"*Yes*, Master Bruce, do go on." 

"All right, there isn't much. The kryptonite Lex gave me was exposed *enough* to affect Kent -- though it's possible that some of his reaction was faked in order to garner sympathy from Dinah. She was shocked to discover that I kept kryptonite on my person, I told her that all of them *should*..." Bruce shakes his head again. "To say she was nonplussed by that statement would be a vast *understatement*. I don't know if she'll want to see me again, and I can't help but wonder if I've lost my chance to make friends." 

Alfred's expression is hard for a moment... but then it softens and Alfred joins him, resting one gloved hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Do you know, sir... the last time you spoke with this much pleasure about the *possibility* of making friends... you were five years old." 

"Yes, I recall. I thought the other children at kindergarten would be... different than how they were. None of them even knew how to *read*, Alfred. Not more than picture-books." 

"Master Harvey would have known, I believe." 

"Yes. He told me he would read the newspapers discarded in the hallways of his tenement when he couldn't get to the library. He told me that the lack of new stories was an ache within him... but you believe I would do well to restrict myself to Harvey's company." 

Alfred squeezes his shoulder. "While I have no doubt that Miss Lance is a remarkable young woman capable of sussing the deeper truths about a given individual in mere moments, and thus of choosing likely companions, the fact remains that she is among those who have chosen a pedophile who preys on adolescents in the dangerous and *disgusting* sex trade to *lead* them." 

Bruce nods. "I did... I did ask that question." 

"Indeed, sir...?" 

"Yes. She told me that he never hurt anyone with his... attentions." 

Alfred makes an *ominous* sound -- 

And Bruce smiles ruefully. "Yes, I believe I had the same thought you're entertaining at the moment. I *don't* believe that Kent was the one who took her virginity in her fourteenth year." 

"Good heavens. I imagine it's too much to hope that some *other* teenager was involved in that equation...?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "The hero community is her life, Alfred. She found it... well. She found it somewhat excitingly outré that I had been involved with... a civilian." 

Another squeeze, but this one is almost convulsive -- and Bruce knows why. 

"I gave her my first name and nothing else about me but what she could glean from my diction... but Kent had learned my identity, and chose to share it." 

"The pedophile knows. I see. Master Bruce, have you thought about what you will do about *security*?" 

Bruce closes his eyes, and covers them with his hand. "I have. And I don't like the answers I came up with." 

"Sir...?" 

"There is exactly one person on this planet who has fought Kent to a standstill, Alfred. And that person has already proved willing to share his resources. I'm calling Lex as soon as I can bring myself to do it." 

"He is..." Alfred sighs. "He has wished to become your ally in the past." 

He has. He -- 

("Just take it. We *both* know you've been dying to study it." 

"Exogeology is hardly my specialty, Lex --" 

"That can change. Can't it...?")

And -- 

("You almost *have* to wonder how much it would take to kill him."

"Almost, Lex?" 

"Yes, yes, horseshoes and hand grenades, but --" 

"Lex." 

"*Take* it, darling. And -- call it a gift to me.") 

He's not Lex's *darling*. He's never been -- 

Even when it seemed like he could be. Even -- 

Bruce shakes his head. "Alfred, he hasn't wanted to be my ally since the days when Father was more interested in getting me to take a more active role in the day-to-day affairs of the company. I'm afraid I'm going to have to go to him as a supplicant," Bruce says, and moves his hand and opens his eyes again. "He has been... honorable about some things." 

"Your and Master Harvey's secret." 

Bruce nods and catches himself staring at nothing -- 

And remembers, instead, the sound of Lex's gasp from beside the topiary rabbit in the Seneca Day gardens -- 

The acid taste of need which hadn't gone anywhere -- 

And the feel of Harvey's body shuddering against his own, mouth to mouth and groin to groin. 

They'd always been *careful* -- but Bruce had allowed himself to be kissed by Francine Weatherington that night, and Harvey had wanted to erase it, Harvey had wanted to *remind* -- 

("You belong to *me* --" 

"*Always*, Harv --" 

"Shh, just kiss, just kiss me --") 

And a part of Bruce hadn't wanted to stop even with Lex right there. A part of Bruce had wanted to come *out*, though he hadn't known the term then, or everything it could mean... 

("Lex." 

"The one and only... Harvey." 

"What will it take." 

"Excuse me?" 

"What will it *take* -- to get you to keep your mouth shut.") 

And Lex had looked at him, and the smile on Lex's face had been lazily sharp. The smile in his eyes, however, had been full of wonder and *interest*. 

("Lex... please." 

"Bruce, let *me* handle this --" ) 

And Lex had held up a hand -- 

And Harvey had *bristled* to be silent for that -- 

("Nothing. There's nothing." 

"God fucking *damn* it, Lex --" 

"I mean -- I don't need anything. And I don't want anything. And -- your secret is safe with me.") 

And Lex had looked at him one more time -- 

Lex had *searched* him for a moment long enough to make Harvey shift on his feet -- 

And then he'd walked away. And kept his promise. 

They hadn't all suddenly become friends, but Lex made far fewer efforts to be antagonistic, and with Harvey walking away from every *potential* confrontation... 

There had been a brief rumor that *Lex* and Harvey were involved, a fight between Lex's and Harvey's 'friends,' a visit to the headmaster's office *only* for Harvey... and nothing else. 

Nothing but brief, random telephone calls and the occasional *breezy* letter which Bruce responded to politely -- until Lex had invited Bruce to Metropolis a year and a half ago. It had been -- nearly exactly -- the eighth anniversary of Lionel Luthor's ignominious and suspicious death, and thus also the anniversary of the *unofficial* birth of LexCorp. In the intervening years, Lex had turned the company into Wayne Enterprises' largest American rival for defense contracts -- though LexCorp spent far more money on weaponry than on actual defenses. 

And he'd done many other things, as well. Things *Bruce* wasn't supposed to know about. 

Other than R'as al Ghul, Lex Luthor is the only living supervillain to have successfully kept his reputation as a generally *non*-malevolent member of society intact. Bruce had never been able to blame Kent for that. 

Lex had always been a cut above in terms of acumen and -- 

"Master Bruce?" 

Bruce blinks and stares at his own hands. They're shaking mildly. They -- 

He stops them.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. I was woolgathering." 

Alfred squeezes his shoulder once more -- and then takes a deep breath and sits in the chair to Bruce's left. 

"Alfred?" 

"Are you *quite* sure you have no other options?" 

Bruce nods. "Kent has made himself known as The World's Greatest Hero. His enemies are, thus, the enemies of the world. It would be impossible to use them -- morally impossible, as well. In that respect, Lex isn't any better... but Bruce Wayne can be *seen* with him without arousing *official* suspicion." 

"But you *would* arouse Master Harvey's suspicion... as well as that of the vigilante community." 

Bruce grits his teeth -- no, not that. Because -- "I've thought about that, as well." 

"Sir?" 

"Harvey... Harvey will be nonplussed, but not actively suspicious of me, should I tell him -- and forget to tell him immediately -- that Lex is helping me with some biochemical project. There are any number of things I'm honestly known to be working on which I could... lay on the proverbial altar." 

"And your potential new... friends?" 

The Fox shows his teeth. "They'll all know by tonight at the latest that I've been keeping an eye on all of them, Alfie. There's no reason I can't keep an eye on their enemies, too." 

"Indeed, sir. And stop it." 

"Yes, Alfred." 

"Master Bruce... what *did* you and Mr. Luthor discuss when you visited him?" 

He'd never told anyone -- 

("Are you and Harvey still --" 

"No." 

"Because you're brothers?" 

"No.")

And Lex had bitten his lip to hold in laughter -- 

And Bruce had searched for traces of the roué and found none -- 

And the honest and open *delight* in Lex's eyes -- 

("Bruce... I've missed you *badly*." 

"That... is improbable." 

"Just the same. I wanted to tell you that those boots you made for the military were amazing." 

"Thank you. Your plasma rifles should be a great boon to the world's police departments." 

"Thank *you*. Do you miss him?" 

"Lex..." 

"Please."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Do you miss your father?") 

And Lex had smiled like something ancient and cold, like something which should only live *beneath* the human soul -- 

And then he'd laughed again. 

("Not even a little. I've got a present for you. Or perhaps for the tall, broad, and square-jawed individual who wears those wonderful boots, and undoubtedly makes use of those air filters, that incredibly flexible bulletproof fabric... et cetera." 

"I don't think I know who you mean." 

"I saw your eyes when you kissed him -- but that's neither here nor there. Will you accept my gift?") 

Bruce... isn't at all surprised to find himself covering his face again. He -- 

*Lex* -- 

"Master Bruce, I will not *judge* you if you tell me you found yourself in a compromising position --" 

"Oh, dear. Ah." Bruce uncovers his face. "Alfred, I didn't make *love* with him!" 

Alfred raises his right eyebrow. Gently. 

"I... take it that I've said or done something in the past which implies an attraction to him." 

Alfred plucks an invisible wrinkle out of his glove. 

"Hm. *Strongly* implied?" 

"Yes, Master Bruce." 

"He... he's always been... he is *fascinating*." 

"Indeed, sir? I note that you used the same word for the alien pedophile's moral code." 

"How can we be sure that *he* isn't an adolescent?" 

Alfred opens his mouth -- and closes it again. And *looks* at him. 

"Of course... of course he was *raised* to have achieved adulthood by now," Bruce says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "There's no telling what sort of hormonal soup is working on his brain, however." 

"Master Bruce --" 

"Assuming he *has* anything which we could label as a brain. I -- I forgot to ask Dinah if she'd ever seen Kent eating anything. Considering what she said about his powers --" 

"Which was?" 

Bruce had typed it all in to his file... but Alfred has better things to do than read his files. "His powers are radiation-based. Solar radiation, that is. He becomes stronger with every nanosecond he spends exposed to sunlight, and weaker when exposed to radiation with a longer wavelength than visible light... hmm. That *should* include microwave radiation. I'm not sure whether I should ask Lex that question or not." 

"Sir --" 

"He implied -- strongly -- that he knew I was the Fox." 

"Sir!" 

"He said... he said it was something in my eyes," Bruce says, and remembers the way Lex had lounged, the way -- 

Perfect comfort blended with a need for motion (violence?) *banked* --

His skin still looked so soft, so *sleek* -- "I... Alfred. I believe I trust him more than Kent." 

Alfred hisses between his teeth and *grips* the hand Bruce has on the table. "Sir. I do not wish to tell you to whom you should give your trust --" 

"Forgive me, Alfred, but I believe that that is *precisely* what you wish to do," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I have no intention of... hm... giving away the store? I will tell Lex that I wish -- only -- to study the kryptonite for the sake of... yes. I will speak of the inroads Wayne Enterprises is making into cancer research. Lex will either believe me or he won't." 

"And if he demands quid pro quo?" 

"Then I'll tell him -- quite honestly -- that Superman frightens me breathless. Every day, Alfred. Every *moment*. There's simply no way of telling how far away he was when he overheard my conversation with Dinah. If he needs to know why a mostly idle civilian is frightened... then I use the narrative Dinah inadvertently gave me. A hint of prejudice may very well go a long way with someone like Lex." 

Alfred frowns and nods grimly. "I cannot fault your planning, sir, and it is true that you know Mr. Luthor far better than I hopefully ever will... but I cannot help but find myself worried just the same." 

Bruce gently presses Alfred's hand between his own. His glove even *feels* immaculate. "I will be careful, Alfred. And I believe I will bring you *with* me to Metropolis should this require another visit. That is, if you're amenable." 

"Very good, sir. I will begin preparing the Fox's travel kit just in case." 

"Thank you, Alfred." 

Alfred inclines his head, stands, and departs, leaving Bruce to finish his breakfast. The eggs are hopelessly room-temperature, but the spinach is fresh enough -- and the few seasonings perfect enough -- that it's not, truly, an ordeal. 

Yogurt and fruit finish the meal -- 

And it's all Bruce can do not to postpone everything until he can work out for, say, three hours. 

Or four. 

Or -- long enough that he *only* has time to prepare for his date with Selina. 

Bruce smiles ruefully at himself and compromises by taking his run -- on the treadmill, so as not to distract himself with the strange and heady wonders of Gotham by sunlight -- before anything else. 

Five miles leaves him feeling ready for *most* things -- 

And Alfred is standing next to the treadmill with the cordless telephone Bruce keeps forgetting he owns. And that -- 

"Did I seem... inclined toward avoidance, Alfred?" 

"You were humming, sir." 

"I... confess I'm not sure what that --" 

"You tend to hum when you are either excited or pretending you do not have something distasteful to do." 

Bruce frowns. "Have I been doing this for a long time?" 

"You hummed the Grey Ghost theme song in your playpen, sir." 

"I -- hm." 

"Before that, you would... shout it. Using the syllables 'ba,' 'ga,' and 'doo.'" 

Bruce frowns. "You weren't *there* for my infancy, Alfred." 

"I assure you, sir; your many fascinating antics were discussed at *length*." 

Bruce shudders. Just -- "Not with Harvey." 

Alfred smiles... really rather evilly. 

"Hm. Noted," and Bruce shuts the treadmill down, takes the telephone, and moves to sit on his favorite bench. 

The leather is the same shade of brown which tends to make Harvey look like an exceedingly stylish and sexy gangster. He almost never wears it anymore -- 

And Bruce truly is sitting down and staring at a telephone. Almost glaring, really. He looks up to see what Alfred will say -- 

But Alfred has left him again. Perhaps he's worried Bruce will talk to Lex about yeast infections... hm. 

It *could* be a way to -- no. Bruce dials Lex's private number and waits -- 

For two rings. "Bruce...?" 

"Lex... how are you?" 

"At the moment? *Vastly* intrigued," and Lex hums something of a laugh. "Give me *just* a moment." 

"Of course." 

But Lex doesn't put the receiver down before saying, "Mercy, go put the fear of, oh, *you* into my pilot. Just in case." 

"Yes, Lex." 

"Bruce... I'm all yours. For certain values and definitions of the possession in question." 

That -- "I always forget how amusing you can be." 

"Well. I *do* do my best to save that sort of thing for people with reason to avoid the media. Have you ever found it strange what is and isn't considered acceptable masculine behavior in this decade?" 

Hm. "I have. There's no longer... there doesn't seem to be any internal cohesiveness to the central argument, anymore." 

"Precisely. We can blame the seventies for allowing even manly men to have exciting hair again, but where to even begin when musicians such as Michael George are acceptable sex symbols? I mean, the man allowed *millions* of people to see him in banana-colored short shorts." 

Bruce blinks. "I don't... think... I'm familiar... hm. Banana-colored?" 

"Oh, yes. Honestly, I couldn't help speculating about what he had *under* those shorts, considering the amount of bouncing and gyrating he was doing. I mean, his underwear had to be world-class." 

"I suppose --" 

"Bruce. What does the Fox wear under those silk trousers?" 

"I promise to ask him the next time we meet, Lex, but -- " 

"You have a question. Perhaps more than one?" 

Bruce leans back against the weights and smiles helplessly. "Lex, how is it that you always manage to make it seem as though we'd merely had our lengthy and exceedingly *catholic* conversation briefly interrupted?" 

"Is *that* your question...?" 

"It's one of them --" 

"Will you answer one of mine?" 

Quid pro quo... "Hm. How honest do I have to be?" 

"Would you ever ask Harvey that question?" 

The Fox smiles. "Is *that* your question, Lex?" 

Lex laughs softly -- it's barely more than a breath. "I always knew you were more than just the unfailingly, un*blinkingly* earnest and hulking gentle giant." 

"Lex --" 

"Your eyes that night -- well. Have fewer pictures taken of yourself, Bruce. There's only so much color contacts can change about your eyes." 

Bruce closes his eyes and grips his knee -- no. He will be calm. "I don't --" 

"Know what I'm talking about. I *know*, darling, I truly do --" 

Bruce coughs -- 

"You weren't expecting that at *all*, were you?" 

He never *is* -- "Not in the slightest, Lex. But then... who could ever expect you?" 

"Oh, *stop* it, darling, you'll turn my *head*..." 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to breathe through laughter -- "I -- a moment, please --" 

"Take your *time*, gorgeous." 

Bruce is almost sure he shouldn't be imagining a dinner date with, say, himself, Lex, Dinah, and Kent -- 

And Selina? 

Harvey? Gilda? 

Gilda had expressed a desire to *sculpt* Lex, once, after seeing a picture of his profile in the Herald, but Harvey's reaction had been enough to dissuade her -- 

"I wanted to be your friend once," Bruce says. He wishes he could call it a blurt, but -- it wasn't. 

And Lex takes a sharp breath. "I suppose I don't have to ask what changed your mind." 

"Perhaps not." 

Lex hums. "I've wanted to be your friend --" 

"Since you saw my eyes?" 

"Before then." 

Bruce blinks. "I was a nonentity --" 

"You stood up for the mild-mannered and the weak -- even against the professors. When you were disciplined for it -- even considering how rarely and unofficially that happened -- you took your punishments with grace, aplomb, and conscientious objection. And you worshipped the ground Harvey walked on." 

"Did that last truly recommend me...?" 

Lex laughs again. "Considering the kind of person he was back then? Considering what he *could* have become with his history and the sudden stacks of cash falling on him from your parents? Yes, it did."

Bruce nods. He *and* the Fox have seen that sort of thing -- but. "Was there anything else?" 

"Well. One *little* thing." 

"If it's a little thing --" 

"Then it isn't important?" 

Bruce smiles. "Then you won't mind telling me." 

"Fishing, Bruce...?" 

"Harvey *did* reject me," the Fox says in Bruce's voice. "It's entirely possible that I'm feeling... insecure." 

Another sharp breath -- "You wanted me." 

I still do. "Is that all? You didn't make that especially difficult to do, Lex." 

"No, Bruce. There's been a place for the mincing, bitchy queen since time immemorial... but that's not who you wanted." 

"Are you --" 

"Yes. Oh, yes, I'm sure. While we're being honest with each other --"

"Shall I be afraid?" 

"Are you ever?" 

"Perhaps not when I should be," Bruce says, and thinks of the Fox *dancing* through crossfire situations -- 

"Then, no. You absolutely should *not* be afraid. After all, it's not as though *you* know how secure this line is." 

"It's your *private* line --" 

"Is it? Is it really, Fox?" 

"Lex." 

Lex sighs. "Fine, not that, then. I wanted to teach you once." 

Bruce... doesn't have to ask *what* Lex had wanted to teach. "Really." 

"Oh, yes. I wonder -- fairly often as these things go -- if there might not still be things you *need* to be taught." 

"I believe I'm insulted for Harvey's sake." 

A *breathless* laugh. "And he was -- and is -- *beautiful*. Right, Bruce?" 

"He's the most beautiful man I've ever known --" 

"Oh, Bruce. I... you wanted the boy I was inside." 

"Yes." 

"Who was I?" 

"The most... objectively fascinating man I'd ever known." 

Lex sighs. "By which definition of the term...?" 

Alfred walks back in with a suitcase in his hand -- 

"Are you asking whether you ever gave me an erection?" 

Alfred turns around and walks out. 

"As a matter of fact..." 

"The answer is yes, Lex, but I don't think that's relevant --" 

"Tell me what you need." 

Bruce closes his eyes. "A certain... meteor." 

"Is *that* all? How much?" 

"What can you... spare?" 

"Well..." Bruce can *hear* the smile in Lex's voice -- "Well. Considering how successful our efforts have thus far been to synthesize the material? Quite a lot." 

Bruce *winces*. "That's... good." 

Lex snorts. "Oh, I'm -- sorry. This is really just --" Lex *coughs*. "All right, I'm fine. What lie are you going to tell me about why you need it?" 

The Fox rises in a *rush* -- "Cancer research seemed like the best story to tell, Lexie." 

"You don't get to call me that until *after* you blow me, darling. Damn, even your *voice* is... well, you know exactly what it is." 

"Just trying to insert a little levity, dollface." 

Lex splutters *interestingly*. "Take that back." 

"But *why*? That pale skin, those cheeks flushed with emotion -- you're a regular china doll..." 

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" 

"Oh, *often*, dollface --" 

"*Fox*." 

"You *have* to know you'll never get an answer out of me either way --" 

"Come visit me. I have... things." 

"Things...?" 

"And stuff." 

"*What* things and stuff?" 

"That would be telling. Get on your jet -- I know it only takes forty-five minutes to get from your penthouse to that private airstrip of yours --" 

"What if I want you to come for me...?" 

"Oh... Bruce. I like you, so I'm going to give you a warning. Are you listening?" 

"I promise you have my *absolute* attention... dollface." 

"You'll never forget me. Let me repeat myself. You? Will never. Forget me." 

And you need it to be just that way. More, perhaps, than you need to be loved. Bruce closes the Fox's eyes and *forces* himself back to the forefront. "Lex... forgetting you would have always been impossible." 

"Darling, if *that* were true, you'd *call* more often." 

And the Fox is too happy *not* to rise -- "You know, it's the *oddest* thing -- most of the people I hit on *don't* want to remind me of my mother." 

Lex hums -- and sounds delighted. "They don't know you like *I* do... Bruce." 

"Lex." 

"Get on the plane." 

"I'm afraid I have a *date*, dollface --" 

"*Cancel* it." 

"No can do. It's with a living, breathing female of the species, and I must confess to being... fascinated." 

Lex snorts again. "It'll *pass* --" 

"Has it with you and Mercy..?" 

"Mercy isn't a woman, Bruce." 

Bruce blinks. "No?" 

"Mercy..." Lex sighs with pleasure. "*Mercy*... is a quality bestowed on humanity by a just and righteous universe --" 

"Lex, have you become *religious*?" 

"Have Harvey bite your tongue for you, darling. I'm speaking of science, and the glory of humanity's striving. I'm speaking of the ineffable mystery of the human brain and the rough poetry of the human body. I'm speaking of --" 

"An assassin," Bruce uses the Fox's mouth to insist -- 

"Now don't make me *pout*, darling --" 

"Have you ever?" 

"Oh, all the time. And then Mercy makes the bad, bad things go far, far away," Lex says, and the sharpness is *under* his voice. The challenge is -- 

The challenge is itself, and Bruce cannot hide from it. "I don't want him dead, Lex." 

"Who's speaking of death? I --" 

"Lex." 

"Fine. I have many, *many* lead-lined rooms here -- I happen to be in one of them even as we speak -- and *you* don't have a single one. I know, I've checked. I have an excellent contracting firm on speed-dial --" 

"I'm not quite ready for that, yet." 

"But you acknowledge that you *will* --" 

"That I could be. Someday. In the *future*," Bruce says, and catches himself leaning forward even though Lex isn't truly there -- "I'll be there tomorrow." 

"For how long?" 

"I have... a busy schedule --" 

"Of course you do. We'll call it lunch -- and *perhaps* dinner?" 

"All right, Lex --" 

"Bruce." 

"Yes?" 

"Wear black." 

The Fox smiles. "Will you wear lavender?" 

"Was *that* your favorite?" 

"It sharpens your cheekbones and softens your eyes... dollface." 

Lex hums. "Noted. See you then." 

"Oh, yes," the Fox says, and hangs up. 

And Bruce puts his face in his hands. 

And the Fox fills his mind with the image of a sixteen-year-old Lex showering -- 

A twenty-two year old Lex smiling for the cameras as a disguised Bruce followed Clark Kent as discreetly as possible -- 

A seventeen-year-old Lex watching him with wonder, so much *wonder* -- 

And he has a pretty, *pretty* mouth, Brucie...

He's a murderer. He's -- he *steeps* himself in corruption -- 

He wants you. He might even need you. 

He killed his *father* -- 

You could teach him a few things, Brucie. Teach him how to make *love*. 

He has *Mercy* -- 

The sociopath? She couldn't make *love* if you pointed a gun at her... though if you pressed it to her temple she could probably fake it. 

I shouldn't be talking to myself.

Are you? 

Bruce hisses through his teeth -- and throws himself into a workout. 

He uses the weights, the pommel horse, the uneven bars, and the weights again.

He runs another three miles.

He does one-hundred-fifty chin-ups. 

He -- reaches for the extra-sweetened lemonade Alfred never makes unless he feels Bruce is overdoing it, and drains it in three swallows. 

It's delicious. 

It's -- 

"Master Bruce, I took the liberty of researching Miss Lance. She is, indeed, the owner of record of the Serenity Flowers shop on East Forty-Fifth Street. It had previously been held in trust for her by Mr. Theodore Grant, who is also -- still -- her guardian." 

Bruce blinks -- and pours himself more lemonade from the pitcher. "Does she attend school?" 

"She attained her General Equivalency Diploma earlier this year and has shown no signs of interest in acquiring further education. Perhaps... perhaps you might call her." 

"Alfred?" 

Alfred's face isn't set -- he doesn't appear angry or even disappointed -- but... 

"Why... why are you worried?" 

Alfred looks at him, then. Looks *into* him -- and his expression becomes even *more* worried. 

"Alfred --" 

"Master Bruce, I did not go far when I left the room while you were speaking with Mr. Luthor. You... you did not seem to be capable of... remaining within one persona." 

Bruce smiles ruefully and sips his lemonade this time. "I've begun to wonder if I ought to have personae, at all, Alfred." 

"Then have you begun to consider retiring, sir?" 

Bruce winces. "Yes, that would be... necessary." Bruce shakes his head. "No, I do see the use, of course. It's only..." 

"You have felt more... fractured?" 

Bruce nods. "It was... easy with Selina. On the telephone, I mean. I was simply myself, but with some of the Fox's honesty. But in some ways it was even *easier* with Dinah, when I was the Fox *and* Bruce Wayne, but not at the same time." 

Alfred's expression grows *pinched* with worry -- 

"Oh, Alfred, I'll be all right. I know I will --" 

"Master Bruce... which one of your personae is the true one?" 

Bruce stares at his lemonade. He --

He doesn't -- 

It's just that the answer to that question *changes* -- 

"I see," Alfred says, and folds his hands together. "Perhaps a less fraught question would be appropriate: which persona does Mr. Luthor *desire*?" 

"Bruce. He'd like to think it was the Fox, but he merely wants to possess him. To... own or control him... no, both," Bruce says, and drinks more lemonade. "Bruce reminds him of youth. Of possibility and... hmm. He doesn't desire redemption so much as the trappings of it. He wishes to be viewed with admiration by the people he respects, and it's entirely possible that there is a vanishingly small number of people he respects as much as he respects Bruce Wayne." 

Alfred nods once. "Then you know what you must do." 

"Turn him. That's going to be --" 

"Master Bruce. I do not expect you to *redeem* a murderous supervillain." 

"I... no?" 

"No. I expect you to *use* that murderous supervillain's affection for you as a lever to *move* him." 

"That's... rather mercenary, don't you think?" 

Alfred pinches the bridge of his nose and seems to be counting again. 

"Ah... I mean. I do see the use of what you're saying, and the logic is impeccable, but..." 

"It is mercenary." 

"Yes, Alfred. And --" 

"Master Bruce. You owe him *nothing*!" 

"Alfred, he could have destroyed Harvey's career before it *happened*. And -- what would Mother and Father have had to go through --" 

"You owe him *nothing*. You owe *no* one *anything* for behaving with human decency. That is their responsibility *as* human beings." 

"All right, Alfred, that's debatable --" 

"It is *not*." 

Bruce takes a deep breath and makes a placating gesture. "I won't argue with you, Alfred, but there's one thing you aren't considering." 

Alfred raises an eyebrow. 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "It's Lex. He's... he grew up with one of the single most mercenary creatures on the *planet* --" 

"And then he had him *murdered* --" 

"Yes, but not before learning everything the man could teach, Alfred. He would *immediately* recognize any attempt to manipulate his affections for what it was... and I would lose any and all power I had over him." 

Alfred frowns -- but then he takes a breath and inclines his head. "You are correct, Master Bruce. I was not thinking clearly," and he pinches the bridge of his nose again. "Drink more lemonade, please." 

"Yes, Alfred. It's wonderful today." 

"Thank you, sir. I am... I am worried about you, sir." 

"I know, Alfred." 

Alfred folds his hands together again. "You gave your heart to no one save myself and your parents before you met Master Harvey, and to no one after him for nearly sixteen *years*. Now... Miss Kyle. Miss Lance. And Mister Luthor?" 

Bruce frowns. "It's true that I desire him --" 

"Master Bruce. You desire *no* one without first feeling great... affection. That much has been clear about you for many, many years. Is there anyone else?" 

"I... I wish to know more about Kent. I wish to... converse with him. Nearly as much as I wish to bait him. Sometimes more than I fear him." 

Alfred nods once. "Miss Kyle has, perhaps, reminded you of the pleasures of the wider world?" 

"She's rather more to me than a *post-it* note, Alfred." 

Alfred makes a quelling gesture. "Of course, Master Bruce. I meant no offense. Still, you did start the day by asking me how you might go about explaining to her that you would be sharing your affections with another, younger woman." 

"Alfred! It's not her *age* that attracts --" 

"Yes, Master Bruce, I *know*. However, there remains the fact that you must explain your intentions to Miss Kyle *sooner* rather than later. I recommend that, after she has her drink in hand, you explain to her that you -- at present -- are *not* monogamous." 

"Yes, I see. I wouldn't want her to be surprised or hurt." 

"Indeed, sir. You must then open yourself for her questions -- and be prepared to accept a *loss* of interest on her part." 

Bruce frowns... but even without ever *officially* being involved with Harvey, even with Harvey wishing him to have more people in his life, Harvey had become jealous. "I... is there any way to be... convincing?" 

Alfred smiles ruefully. "Master Bruce, I feel confident in saying that, should there *be* such a thing, you will find it." 

"Thank you, Alfred, but --" 

"Your bath awaits, Master Bruce, and I have laid out an appropriate ensemble for a first date. In one hour, you *will* be in the garage. Am I understood?" 

"Yes, Alfred." 

"Finish your lemonade."

He does.


	6. Chapter 6

Selina is fifteen minutes late, and Bruce honestly isn't sure whether or not he should be worried. 

The private dining area of Adzuki is lit with a profusion of paper lanterns and decorated with what he believes are precisely three too many bonsai. 

The extra three are all behind his chair, but not quite far enough behind him that he doesn't brush them when he leans back. 

Selina is sixteen minutes late. 

Had he offended her in their short telephone call last night? Or... no, some women prefer arriving to their dates late -- Harvey had said so -- and it's certainly possible that Selina is one of those women. Though a habitually late jewel thief would probably be apprehended sooner rather than later. 

Bruce leans back -- 

Bruce straightens again, and sips his green tea, which is excellent. The nuttiness of the toasted rice is quite -- 

Selina is sixteen minutes and fifty-one seconds late. 

Could she be performing a daylight heist? Bruce would think that her clothes would stand out far too much for that... 

The second time they'd made love, she hadn't taken the robin's-egg-sized ruby from between her teeth until the Fox had taken it back from her. She -- 

("Sapphires are better anyway, big boy. Kisses!") 

She'd leapt off the roof and used her whip as a grapple, and Bruce had stared at the interplay of muscles in her back -- 

Selina is -- sliding into the chair opposite Bruce's own and resting her elbows on the table. She's wearing a slim, knee-length purple shift which hugs her curves and -- "Hello, loverboy. Miss me?" 

"Yes." 

She quirks a smile and raises an eyebrow. "A little *bald*, don't you think...?" 

"I was thinking of you," Bruce says, and shakes out his napkin to keep himself from reaching across the table to touch her soft, painted mouth. The color of her dress is closer to wine than that of her uniform, but - 

"Oh, yes...?" 

"How do you feel about rubies?" 

"Gaudy and cheap-looking. Always. Garnets almost always look classier. Why?" 

The Fox smiles. "A moment's curiosity, only. I saw a ruby recently which reminded me of you." 

Her expression is a moue of distaste -- 

"Only, I assure you, because I find rubies beautiful." 

"Hmph. A decent save. I --" And then Selina pauses and leans back to smile at the waiter. She orders green tea and a Poporo beer -- 

And Bruce orders a refill on his tea and the same. After the waiter leaves -- 

"Copying me, big boy?" 

Oh, Selina... "I find myself interested in that which interests you. Surely you can understand that?" 

She narrows her eyes in obvious pleasure -- "What took you so long to call me, Bruce?" 

Bruce blinks. "Last night...? I was --" 

"No. We met two weeks ago. Did it take that long for the information on me to come in?" 

"Hardly. However... I can be somewhat shy. Painfully so, according to my loved ones." 

She cocks her head to the side and shows her teeth. "Show me your shy side." 

"All right," Bruce says, and stares at her silently while smiling with his eyes. 

And continues to stare.

And continues to stare.

And -- 

Selina flinches and shudders. "Okay, okay, I surrender." She laughs quietly. "How many women have you done *that* to?" 

Bruce smiles with his *mouth*. "Only the one. Margaret Giddings." 

"I don't think I've met her on the society circuit...?" 

"No, her family moved to Switzerland when we were thirteen. I quite liked her, but her shyness combined with my own led to many, many silent afternoons." 

Selina bites her plush lower lip to hold in laughter -- 

And Bruce can't keep himself from narrowing his own eyes. "Will you tell me what kept you...?" 

"What will you give me for that information...?" 

Bruce reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the long, slim box he'd kept there, then lays it on the table.

"On the *first* date, Brucie...? My, my..." She opens it -- and laughs delightedly at the sight of the slim leather cat collar with the spherical silver cage hanging from the center. Inside the cage is a bell, and Selina rings it several times before setting it down again. And blowing him a kiss. "Isis will love it... and it will drive me insane within a week. Three days if she goes into heat. Thank you *very* much." 

Bruce inclines his head, but -- "You didn't have her spayed? Isn't that dangerous?" 

"Not for an indoor cat. I never, ever let her out, and Holly knows it's worth her job to leave the door open. And un-spayed queens smell much, much better." 

Bruce nods and considers. "That would make sense, considering what I know about feline behavior." 

Another eyebrow raise. "What *do* you know about feline behavior?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "A little. Mostly about the ease with which they can be litter-trained, and the difficulty which can be encountered when attempting to train them not to sharpen their claws on antique furniture. I thought about acquiring a pet for myself when I was younger, and spent a great deal of time studying the most common varieties." 

"But you didn't get one in the end?" 

"I'm afraid not. I couldn't convince Father -- my father, that is -- that I would be responsible enough, and then Harvey moved in. He's terribly allergic." 

She frowns slightly. "Still, in a house the size of Wayne manor... I would think there would be space enough for you to keep a pet without bothering Harvey, at all." 

"I wanted to be close to him. Always." 

She smiles. "How close?" 

"Perhaps less close than what you're imagining, Selina." Perhaps -- 

"Perhaps...?" 

"Have you always been aroused by --" 

"Beautiful men being beautiful together...? Absolutely. It's not especially uncommon, Bruce." 

"Considering the number of offers, requests, and fervent pleas the two of us have received over the years, I suppose not." 

Another moue. "I'm being dull. That's just not *on*." She sighs. "I was late because I couldn't decide what to wear to impress you." 

Oh. Bruce smiles and toasts her with his tea. "Perhaps Holly could choose for you...? Certainly, Alfred didn't trust me to my own devices." 

Selina laughs, and doesn't close her mouth right away when she's done. "Holly suggested I wear the cream-colored micro-mini dress my aging hippie neighbor *crocheted* for me." 

"Oh, my. That certainly would've made an impression."

"Is *that* what you like, Bruce? A profound lack of subtlety?" 

"Subtlety has been known to go entirely over my head." 

"You know, Bruce. You make yourself sound as bright as your average sack of *hammers*. What do you hope to achieve with that?" 

"Merely to protect you from surprise and disappointment, Selina." 

"Hmm." Selina leans back again for the waiter to give them their drinks, then asks for ten minutes to peruse the menu. Perhaps she's indecisive about more than her clothes? 

It seems *vastly* unlikely -- 

"All right. Let's get one thing clear, big boy. Are you listening?" 

"With absolutely all of myself," Bruce says, and opens and pours his beer into the glass. It appears to be more of a lager than anything else, but time will tell. 

Selina drinks her beer straight from the bottle -- and narrows her eyes with pleasure again. "All right. You're not my one and only. I don't know you well enough for that, and I may *never* know you well enough for that -- even if we date for ten years. Do you understand?" 

Bruce laughs somewhat helplessly. 

"Yes...?" 

"It's only... it never would have occurred to me to put it that way." 

She raises an eyebrow. "You're seeing someone else?" 

"Perhaps. We've yet to have a date." 

"But you're *shy*...?" 

The Fox smiles for him. "Sometimes. Not all of the time." 

She narrows her eyes *thoughtfully*. "What's her name?" 

"Dinah." 

"Hair color?" 

"Black -- and she keeps it quite short." 

"Eyes?" 

"Blue. Though a less soft blue than your own. Hers are... somewhat calculating." 

"Age?" 

"Far too young -- according to Alfred." 

"Is *that* your kink?" But there's almost no flirtation in her voice, at all. She wouldn't approve of Kent if she knew. 

She... Bruce reaches across the table and covers Selina's hand with his own. "I'm no predator, and I have no love for people who are." 

She stares at his hand for a long moment. "I had to... dissuade a pimp who had become interested in Holly." 

Bruce frowns and nods. "It seems... it often seems that the pimps in this city breed like *rats*." 

She blinks. "You have an interest in the sex trade?" 

"My father's closest friend -- Dr. Leslie Thompkins -- runs a shelter and job-training program for young people who wish to get *out* of the sex trade, along with a clinic where many prostitutes seek health care. I... help when and where I can." And so does the Fox... though meeting some of the young prostitutes Kent had been seeing there had led to the Fox being *excoriated* for chasing Kent away --

Selina smiles brightly. "I *took* Holly to that clinic. She was thirteen at the time." 

"Oh... is she your ward?" 

Selina waves a hand. "Not officially -- Holly has a *vast* dislike for 'official' that I understand extremely well -- but... yes. She's far more my family than my employee." 

"I feel the same way about Alfred. I... there hasn't been any more trouble from that pimp, has there? Perhaps I could be of assistance."

Selina blinks. "*How*?" 

Oh -- right. Bruce laughs softly. "While I'd be tempted to engage in some manner of fisticuffs --" 

Selina snorts -- 

"I'm afraid I would defer to my brother, who has many, many friends on the police force." 

"Not the most savory company to keep in *this* city, Bruce." 

"Harvey worked closely with the new commissioner to clean *up* the police force, Selina." 

"That was almost a *scold*. All right, all right, I'll be nice. But I do think I've had a bit more experience with police officers than you have." 

Perhaps. "How so?" 

She waves a hand airily. "Call it a misspent -- and marvelously exciting -- youth. Let's figure out what we're ordering." 

"As you say." 

Bruce always orders the Kobe beef entree when he's here -- somehow, the searing process they use is even better than Alfred's -- as well as something new to him. Today, he chooses the strawberry and escolar 'martini,' which has made him eye the menu askance *every* time he's been here. 

It's a good time to try something new. 

Selina chooses the yuzu-salmon appetizer, the beef negimaki appetizer, and the chirashi sushi. It... 

"Do you always enjoy large meals?" 

"Do you always ask women with whom you'd like to have sex questions designed to make them worry about the size of their posteriors?" 

Bruce blinks. "Ah. I didn't -- truly, I -- you're an incredibly beautiful woman --" 

"Mm, at ease, big boy. *I'm* not all that self-conscious... and it *was* about time for you to show me that hammery side of yours," she says, and winks at him. 

"I have the distinct urge to fiddle with my tie." 

"Don't you dare -- it's perfect." 

"Hm. Just the same, you have my apologies. I truly didn't mean --" 

"Stop." 

"All right." 

"I eat like a horse at good -- or even medium-quality -- Japanese restaurants," Selina says, and grins. "I usually eat Japanese at least three times a month... and I was planning to drag Holly to *this* restaurant next month." 

"I assure you, the quality of their food is quite high." 

"Now *why* would I trust someone who has almost certainly never cooked a meal for himself with *that*?" 

Bruce laughs. "Because Alfred cooks -- nearly -- all of my meals, and he's considered one of the best chefs in the region." 

Selina blinks. "You're joking." 

"No. Several times a year, some other wealthy family or fashionable French restaurant tries to hire him away. I'm frankly not sure why other restaurants don't try it -- he's never failed to acquit himself with skill and artistry in the kitchen, no matter what the dish." 

"He's that good a chef... and you have him choose your clothes." 

"And drive. And clean... I assure you, it's entirely his own choice. He cares about me a great deal, I believe." 

"And considers you helpless." 

"Endearingly so, so far." 

Selina snorts. "If I didn't have our next date planned, you *would* be taking me home for dinner. Well. If you 'acquit yourself' well today and this weekend, you'll get a *third* date." 

"I look forward to just that. Do you have any preference about what Alfred should prepare?" 

Selina holds up her hand to tick off points, "something healthy so that I can eat the rest without guilt. Something designed to make any carnivore grow *powerfully* horny. Something yellow -- yellow food is often delicious on top of being attractive -- and something so dripping with shameless decadence that it makes me want to roll around on the floor with you." 

"Are you quite sure about that second date --" 

"*Yes*, Brucie, I am. You're taking me to the circus." 

"Is Twingling Brothers in town this late in the year?" 

"Hardly. It's a small *family* circus called Haly's. Some animal acts, some clowns, a few fairground rides... and, supposedly, the finest American acrobats of our age." 

Someone Bruce could learn from? "You have an interest in acrobatics?"

Selina's smile is small and sharp. "I was a gymnast in school. Never *especially* good, but... yes, I have an interest." 

"Your form... I have difficulty imagining you being anything but graceful," Bruce says, and allows himself to remember their fourth encounter, when Selina had thrown pearls in his path before executing a perfect triple back-flip -- which had ended in a kick which would have bruised one of his ribs without the armor. 

She had been being gentle with him.

She... "Selina, may I touch your face?" 

She raises an eyebrow... and leans in, allowing Bruce to stroke her from just above her left eyebrow down over her cheek to the corner of her soft, broad mouth. Then she leans back and raises *both* eyebrows. 

"Thank you," Bruce says, and brings his fingers to his face. Her rouge smells like powder and something -- slightly -- more acrid. 

"Do you like the scent?" 

"Better than your perfume." 

"You don't care for Sylph?" 

"I'm afraid my mother has ruined me for everything but Chanel products... and a woman's own scents." 

Selina makes a moue once more. "I'd started to hope we'd get through a conversation *without* a disturbing mention of your mother." 

"Disturbing? I only meant --" 

"Never mind." 

"Hm." 

"'Hm'?" 

Bruce smiles and sips his beer. "I can't help wondering why a mention of my mother in a discussion of sensuality is more disturbing than a mention of my brother." 

"Your *brother* doesn't share any DNA with you." 

"Not recently, anyway." 

"What was that?"

"Kidding," the Fox says, and smiles at her. "Selina... do you have any other lovers?" 

"'Other' lovers?" 

"A slip of the tongue only." 

She touches her tongue to her upper lip and takes another swallow of beer. "There's a certain gentleman I share beer, card games, and conversation with now and again."

"Is that all you share?" 

"What did you share with Dinah?" 

"My lips, tongue, fingers, palms, penis, scrotum, and psychological issues. Some of them, anyway." 

Selina giggles. "I -- well. I suppose I *did* ask for just that." 

The Fox inclines Bruce's head. "I do try to provide what I'm asked for." 

"Always?" 

"As often as possible..." But the Fox can't decide on a pet name for Selina. 

And possibly not for any woman who would name a pet after a goddess? It bears thought. 

"Selina... would you tell me how you like to make love?"

"Does Dinah only like it one way?" 

"I honestly don't know... yet," and the Fox leans in. "Please. Tell me... one of the ways you enjoy it." 

Selina scans him at speed -- and then leans in, tilting her head to the side and breathing Bruce's breath. "Rough." 

"How rough." 

"Enough that I can't repeat the experience... immediately." 

Bruce takes a deep breath. "I would enjoy that a great deal... and regret it." 

"Regret is for fools, big boy. Trust me." 

"I'd like to." 

"But?" 

"I don't know you well enough, yet." 

"Who *do* you know that well?" 

"My family." 

"No one else?" 

"Not yet." 

"Most people --" And Selina cuts herself off with a smile for the waiter, who is bringing their three appetizers. Selina's yuzu salmon is arranged beautifully, with a small, edible orchid in the center. Her negimaki, however, is hot enough that it seems to barely not be sizzling. 

Bruce frowns. "They're usually better about serving food at an edible temperature." 

Selina smiles wryly at him. "I'm a big girl, Brucie. I feel confident in my ability not to burn myself," and she starts on her salmon, taking small and obviously pleasured bites from her first slice. 

That leaves his 'martini.' It...

It's served in an almost cartoonishly large martini glass, and there are many bite-sized pieces of escolar scattered throughout it. There are also pieces of avocado and cucumber. There is a fair amount of masago. 

There are strawberries. 

And there is an unidentifiable juice. Or... dressing.

Hm. He -- 

Selina *snorts*. 

Bruce smiles and looks up. "Yes?" 

"You're -- mm," she says, and licks her lips. "You're looking at that thing like you expect it to stalk you, take incriminating photographs of you, and then sell those pics to a tabloid." 

"Hm. I suppose it does look somewhat *shady*," and Bruce prods the mounded pile of ingredients -- 

Masago tumbles down and spreads more than it already had. 

"You didn't *have* to order it, Bruce." 

"It's only... I've tried nearly everything else this restaurant has had to offer." 

"It's that much of a favorite?" 

"Yes --"

"Then try it," she says, and bites the tips of her chopsticks in a teasing grin. Her teeth are very white. 

Her canines appear very sharp. Her mouth -- 

She pulls the chopsticks out of her mouth. "Try it... or you don't get a kiss." 

I miss the feel of your breasts in my hands, Bruce doesn't say, and then he flips his own chopsticks over and picks up a piece of escolar. It's soft, yet firm. It has clearly soaked up some of the dressing. It -- 

He puts it in his mouth, forcing himself to hold it between the roof of his mouth and his tongue for a long moment -- 

A moment that quickly turns wonderful. The first impression is of a citrus-vinegar tang. The second is of a *hint* of salt. The third is of the sweetness of the strawberry -- obviously perfectly ripe -- which leads smoothly and immediately to the natural sweetness of fresh escolar. 

It is... exquisite. 

Bruce chews, swallows, and smiles. "I believe I may need to order a second of these, Selina." 

Selina blinks. "You're joking." 

Bruce holds up a finger and takes the next bite -- which has cucumber, and the brightness of the cucumber reminds him of Harvey and summer and -- 

The next bite has avocado, and it's so smooth, so creamy and wonderful with the dressing -- 

Wait, he was *speaking*. "Selina, it's incredible. I... please taste it for yourself." 

Selina wrinkles her nose. 

"No...? You don't care for sharing food?" 

"I *like* sharing food. I -- honestly, Bruce, I was looking forward to watching you *suffer* through that. Manfully, of course." 

"That's rather cruel, don't you think?" 

A moue -- and then another amused snort. "*I'm* cruel. And capricious. And -- somewhat evil. *Somewhat*." 

"I'm terribly disappointed --" 

"Liar." 

"Very true --" 

"You look like you just had a *foodgasm*, Bruce." 

"I believe I'm *still* having it, Selina. The flavors blend and shift and blend again... the chef who created this is a genius." 

Selina looks at the martini -- ironic single quotes are too *crass* for the dish -- as if it had begun speaking to her in Basque -- "Oh, all right. I warn you, though -- if you make my tummy upset, I'll never trust you again." 

"A terrible fate, to be sure," the Fox says, and pushes the martini to the center of the table. 

Selina *also* starts with a piece of the escolar, only she stares at it narrowly for a moment -- "You should know, Bruce: I think *most* blends of fruit with meat are an affront against Bast." 

"I'll make sure Alfred knows that --" 

She holds up a finger, puts the escolar in her mouth -- and her eyes widen with shock and pleasure. She hums as she chews -- 

She swallows and smiles *delightedly*. "You *do* have good taste!" 

Bruce inclines his head. "My family wouldn't have it any other way, Selina." 

"Ah, yes, your family." Selina jabs at the air with her chopsticks. "As I was saying before, *most* people our age have just a few *friends* they trust at least as much as they trust their families." 

"I did mention being terribly shy --" 

"*Eat*."

Bruce eats. They share the martini between them first, and Selina eats with passion and what could only be described as gusto. After they finish the larger bites, she grins at him -- and drinks half of the dressing. The sourness makes her pucker her lips and hum once more -- 

And Bruce drinks the other half while dreaming of licking the dressing out of her mouth. 

After that, Selina shares her negimaki -- but *not* the yuzu salmon. Bruce makes a note to ask her if she prefers salmon to other fish -- hm. 

"Selina --" 

"I'm still eating, Brucie." 

"Oh, I'm sorry --" 

She smiles and winks at him -- and slips the last slice of salmon into her mouth whole. This time, she narrows her eyes almost enough for them to look *closed*... 

"Perhaps, at some better time, you will tell me what other sorts of food you enjoy this much." 

Selina leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and hums while she chews. She raises a finger. 

Bruce waits, and reminds himself not to lean back, himself. Though... sitting straight makes him hopelessly aware that the bonsais are behind him, but it doesn't actually lead to being poked. He tries that -- 

It's *acutely* uncomfortable, and he honestly doesn't know why -- 

Selina licks her lips and sighs, and then leans over to tap the table with one of her excellently manicured nails. They are, actually, quite short. Especially compared to the claws on her suit. "Move the trees." 

"I don't want to damage them --" 

"They're making you feel... crowded?" 

"Perhaps... perhaps menaced. By something fragile." Bruce frowns at that -- 

And remembers the Gotham Institute of Technology students who had gotten mixed up in one of the Riddler's schemes. None of them had had any training in martial arts -- or even in how to use the guns the Riddler had given them -- and the Fox had spent most of the inevitable fight trying desperately to protect them from themselves. One of the students had wound up losing most of his left forearm when the Riddler had abandoned them to their fate and tried to escape. The Riddler had driven *over* the boy's arm -- 

Bruce closes his eyes and chases the thought away as best he can -- 

"Bruce? Is there something I should know about you and bonsai trees?" 

Bruce laughs quietly. "I'm sorry. I was remembering..." What? "An accident I saw, once. Even a very small and fragile-looking car can do a great deal of damage when wielded irresponsibly. I believe I *will* move the trees. A moment, please." 

Bruce arranges the trees in a way which, to his eyes, helps to hide the fact that there are so many of them. He's still left with one *extra* tree, but it's relatively small, and there's no centerpiece on the other -- empty -- table. Bruce places it, arranges it in as balanced a way as possible, and then sits back down.

Selina is staring at him. 

"I... could arrange them another way?" 

Selina bites her lip again -- and then cocks her head to the side. "Did you decorate your penthouse yourself?" 

"Yes. Though some of the rooms are unfinished. The sun room, especially, disappoints Alfred." 

She narrows her eyes slightly. "Morning person or night person?" 

"Night. To a very large degree." 

"But that doesn't keep you from being wakeful *some* mornings." 

"I'm afraid my family is made up of some of the most ruthless morning people in the world." 

"Even your mother?" 

"I've often thought that she doesn't, truly, need as much sleep as other humans." 

Selina nods thoughtfully and takes a long swallow of beer. 

"Would you tell me about your exercise routine?" 

She sighs and licks her lips. "Absolutely not." 

"May I ask why?" 

"Because it's the most stultifyingly dull part of my life and I like to pretend it doesn't exist. Next?" 

Bruce laughs. "I have to admit, I was hoping to exercise *with* you. Company could almost certainly improve the process...?" 

Another moue. "Company would force me to admit what I was doing to myself, Brucie. Try *again*." 

"Very well. Would you tell me something about your family?" 

"Very strict, very hypocritical, very -- dead. But you know that." 

"Not the first two," Bruce says, and frowns. "They hurt you." 

Selina swallows and drums her fingernails on her thighs. "I -- next." 

"I'm sorry. Tell me more about Holly?" 

She smiles brilliantly -- and toasts him with her beer. "She makes me smile each and every day. If I'm frustrated, she's there with a completely insane solution which often turns out to be the *best* solution. If I'm exhausted, she's right there to push me into bed. If I'm enraged, she's there to make me laugh, make me sigh, make me *coo*... I don't know what I would do without her." 

Bruce smiles back. "Then may she remain in your life forever. You've been this close from the beginning?" 

"Just about. Oh, she was angry at first, and she couldn't trust very easily, but some people..." Selina tosses her hair back over her shoulder and stares thoughtfully into the distance. 

Bruce takes another swallow of beer and enjoys her profile -- 

The slim and graceful wings of her collarbone -- 

The dip of her suprasternal notch -- 

And she turns to smile at him. "You know, Bruce... you have a stare like a predator, sometimes." 

Bruce frowns. "You're not a child --" 

She holds up a hand -- "Not that kind of predator... and why do you use that word that way?" 

"Because they treat children like their prey. Because they use them as callously as a wolf uses a rabbit. Because they have no care for the child's family, or emotional life, or *needs*. I..." But does that apply to Kent? 

Truly? 

Bruce frowns. "I'm sorry, you were talking to me about Holly. Please, go on." 

But Selina gives him a long and level look. "Was there anything, Bruce?" 

"'Anything'?" 

She smiles, then, but her smile is older than her years, by far. "Anything... any reason for you to be so passionate about something which shouldn't have ever touched you." 

Bruce blinks -- 

And remembers the eyes of the children he's saved -- but not soon enough. Not ever soon *enough*. 

And Selina has seen those eyes, too. Perhaps in Holly's face... perhaps in her own mirror. Bruce reaches across the table and covers her hand. "I would like... I would like to know you well enough to discuss that." 

She tilts her chin up and inhales sharply. "Then let's go back to working on just that." 

"Please." 

This time, her smile is gentle. "There are some people in this world who are honestly, wonderfully, *beautifully* irrepressible. Would you agree?" 

"I've thought of you that way." 

"And?" 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "My mother. Possibly Dinah." 

"Dinah reminds you of your mother? Note that I'm not asking you if *I* remind you of your mother, and thus you should never, *ever* answer that question." 

"I... Dinah seems quite wise for her years. When I was her age --" 

"Which is?" 

"She is, I believe, seventeen." 

Selina frowns. "A *high* school student?" 

"She placed out... and owns her own business." 

A blink and a nod. "All right. You were saying?" 

"When I was her age, I was... rather hopeless. Most everything I knew about the world at large came from Harvey and my mother --" 

"Not your father?" 

Bruce smiles. "My father is rather... hm. *Correct* is, I think, the best way to put it. Usually at parties I behave much like him --" 

"That *would* explain it," she says, and runs her finger over the rim of her tea cup. 

"Hm. Indeed. Still, my father has as little to do with the rest of the world as possible. He has his patients, his family, and *one* of his executive vice presidents --"

"Lucius Fox...?" 

Bruce inclines his head. "Yes. Lucius, and his son Lucius, Jr. are, truly, the backbone of Wayne Enterprises. And wonderful, fascinating people, as well." 

The Fox fills his mind with the image of touching the younger Lucius' broad, soft mouth -- 

The Fox *laughs* -- and Bruce smiles ruefully. "Lucius, Jr. is also a rather desperately attractive man." 

"Hmm. Spoken like a man who's only gotten within looking distance." 

"Just so, I fear. He seems to be entirely heterosexual." 

"You haven't asked?"

"No. But I have stared at him while smiling on several occasions."

This time, the snort seems to surprise Selina, and she covers her mouth and nose. 

"Shall I apologize?" 

"Yes. For your entire *life*. Bruce, you have to know you're stunningly attractive." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Do I?" 

"When you use that expression? *Yes*. I... hm. But you're attracted, time and again, to people who are more worldly than you are." 

"Yes." 

"More... open than you are?" 

"If at all possible." 

"Happier...?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "Perhaps... perhaps more comfortable with their happiness. My mother once told me, with great exasperation, that I was built for loneliness, and that I would choose it -- time and again -- over any other emotion without direct intervention from someone more sane." 

Another thoughtful nod -- 

And the waiter comes with their entrees. They smile and thank him, and Selina looks at her chirashi sushi with just the tips of her canines showing. She looks avid and *thrilled* -- 

"I believe I could happily watch you eat -- and anticipate eating -- every day." 

She licks *just* the edges of her two central incisors. "Women who don't enjoy their food are universally horrible people, big boy." 

"But men who don't are all right?" 

"*Men* who don't enjoy their food all find other things to enjoy. This may or may *not* make them into horrible people." 

"Hm. I believe I'll have to do my own studies on the matter." 

"They do say that you're a scientist," she says, and pours some of her beer into a dish before mixing it with soy and wasabi.

"That... is fascinating." 

"If you're a good boy, I'll even let you try it." 

"I do strive to always be good." 

"Do you want your mother, Bruce?" And she gazes at him with a measuring look. 

"Sexually?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

"I don't believe so," and the Fox smiles. "I'd never want her to cheat on my father." 

Selina's jaw falls open seemingly without her permission -- and then she closes it, shakes her head, and laughs. "A fair answer. I don't think it was an *entirely* honest answer, but... it will do for now." 

"Perhaps there's a price for that sort of honesty." 

"'Perhaps...?'" 

"I haven't done any of the... measuring," Bruce says, and takes a bite of his beef. It's as smoky, tender, and darkly creamy as it always is -- 

Though it seems strange, and even wrong, for anything to be more tender than the side of Selina's throat. 

Or the furl of Dinah's labia. 

Or -- 

Brucie, baby, you're getting *dangerously* close to cannibalism here.

Fox, that's *needlessly* perverse -- 

And so are you. 

Bruce -- fights back a frown. It's something he's gotten very, very good at over the years -- 

"It's *that* good, big boy?" 

\-- but it's still a moderately -- and idiotically -- painful shock when Selina doesn't catch it. Bruce smiles. "I order it every time. Even Alfred doesn't make it any better," Bruce says, and offers her a slice on his chopsticks. 

Selina starts to lift her own... but then smiles and leans over to take it in her mouth. To -- 

Bruce doesn't bother to repress a shiver as she chews and hums. She -- 

"So you've had that fantasy." 

"I've had many, Selina." The reality is better -- "I'm vastly enjoying the sexual frustration." 

"'Vastly'?" 

"Oh, yes. I find myself... fed on thoughts of you. Of your taste and your scent. Of the feel of your skin." 

"Sounds like you'll be done with me once we *do* roll around on some handy horizontal surface." 

"Do you prefer --" 

"Sometimes."

"Thank you," Bruce says, and sips his tea. "As for the idea of being done with you... well. I haven't made love with the man who took my virginity for years, Selina. That doesn't mean I'm not still satisfied by my memories and fantasies." 

She parts her lips and pauses with a slice of hamachi held aloft. "You're not too hurt for that?" 

"Even when the pain of his rejection was fresh, I could not chase him from my thoughts. Nor did I try." 

"You still love him. No -- you're still *in* love with him." 

"I always will be." 

Selina looks at him sourly, and that -- 

The Fox smiles *gently* for that. "Selina, I have room for many loves." Bruce smiles ruefully. "Certainly, it's something my former lover has wished for me." 

"Polyamory among the rich and famous? What *is* this world coming to?" 

"Something much brighter and more free, I hope." 

She eyes him shrewdly for a long moment -- and then laughs. "You and Holly, both. She... she makes me want to *build* a better world, sometimes. More often than not." 

Bruce smiles. "I would be happy to be of service." 

"Would you? Really?" 

"I've thought... well, the thoughts are relatively new ones, but I believe I'm going to come out sometime in the next year." 

"Why not next week? Or today?" 

"Because I don't want to distract from -- or harm -- Harvey's bid for the District Attorney's office." 

"Realistic idealism, Bruce?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "It seems to be the only sort I'm capable of... to a certain extent." And the Fox laughs within him -- 

And Bruce reminds the Fox of their *struggle* -- 

And the Fox takes a bow with a knife in his teeth. 

I taught you how to catch them that way, Bruce thinks, and watches Selina eat for two wonderful minutes before remembering that he ought to do the same. 

She wrinkles her nose at him with amusement -- 

The Fox wants to use one of his more ironic flourishes, but Bruce fights down the urge successfully. He eats, trying to match his speed to Selina's, but it doesn't take long to realize that that won't be possible. 

It's impossible to predict when she will slow down to savor versus when she will speed up to devour like a hungry... cat. One slice of mackerel is consumed in eight tiny bites, while another is nearly swallowed whole. 

Six bites of rice are consumed with slow care, but once her fish is gone, she lifts her plate and begins to all but shovel the rice into her mouth like a native of any number of Asian countries. 

The only *truly* predictable thing are her broad, close-mouthed smiles and her hums of enjoyment.

Bruce decides to eat at his own measured pace -- which had been drilled into him by Alfred years before -- and observe.

When she finishes, she dabs her mouth with the napkin -- her lipstick doesn't smudge or smear -- finishes her beer, burps decorously, and leans back again. She then crosses her legs and watches *him* eat from over the rim of her tea cup. 

The Fox wishes to do *something* more devastatingly attractive than consuming expensive beef and perfectly-cooked rice -- 

But he and Bruce agree that there is no one in immediate need of being showily assaulted in the parts of the restaurant they can see.

*He* can see -- 

They? 

"Bruce..." 

"Yes, Selina?" 

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" 

Bruce closes his eyes -- and then opens them again. "Lie to my loved ones. There are worse crimes, but I have not committed them."

Selina smiles softly, gently... and then sharply. "Tell me a truth you've never told anyone else." 

Bruce considers -- "I think Commissioner Gordon is one of the most objectively virile and sexy men I have ever met." 

"And no one else knows that?" 

"I haven't told anyone --" 

"Not good enough. Something... something no one would know just by looking at you at the right moment." 

"Hm. I think the growth of vigilantism is, generally, a good thing." 

Selina blinks. "Costumed crazies with hard-ons for 'justice?' However they choose to define the term?" 

"Is *that* how you see them?" 

Her smile, this time, is coiled within itself much like something dense and small and nourishing. "How else *should* I see them, Bruce?" 

"As instruments for a better, brighter tomorrow. Any number of jurisdictions have been well-served by the presence of a vigilante." 

A hum. "Forgive me, Bruce, but I'd rather not trust my day-to-day existence to people in brightly-colored tights who *choose* to go out every day -- and night -- to brutalize strangers." 

"And what of the criminals the police are ill-equipped to catch?" 

Selina grins sharply. "I -- often -- prefer the criminals *to* the police, Bruce. You know that." 

"I also know that you're not above offering extralegal responses to criminals you *dislike*." 

"I said nothing like that --" 

"No, Selina...? My mistake." 

Selina laughs then, and tosses her hair. "I don't know what you think I've been doing with my time, Brucie, but --" 

"But you're incredibly, wonderfully, and beautifully athletic. You disguise your physical strength with the clothes you wear and how you choose to wear them, but there is no doubt in my mind that, were you to find yourself in a situation calling for violence, you would --" 

"Acquit myself well? Big boy, I may not be to the manor born, but I'm *not* some street harpy." 

Bruce makes what he hopes is a soothing gesture. "I never said you were, and it isn't at all what I meant. Forgive me, but I've *studied* the martial arts on my travels... and I can tell that you have, as well." 

Selina narrows her eyes and scans him -- 

And Bruce finds himself wondering how many charges he can set in his immediate vicinity before he metaphorically atomizes himself. The answer isn't 'let's find out.' 

Certainly that *shouldn't* be the answer -- 

Certainly that shouldn't be the most *attractive* answer -- Bruce focuses and raises an eyebrow. "Yes, Selina?" 

"Does Harvey know that you're a weapon in disguise, Bruce?" 

"I'm hardly --" 

"You've learned enough about the martial arts to recognize training in someone else -- even when that someone else is doing her damnedest to hide just that. That implies a certain *significant* amount of training. However, *you* don't show your training in any way, shape, or form. That? Implies an even larger amount of training." 

"Or a naturally... mendacious soul." 

"Cut the crap, Brucie. Who knows what you can do?" 

Bruce takes a deep, slow breath to hold in the Fox's *riotous* laughter -- "You do." 

Selina narrows her eyes -- 

Selina *blushes* -- 

Selina tosses her napkin down on her empty plate and starts to stand. 

"Wait --" 

"You're a lying *bastard* --" 

"I want you in my life, Selina. *All* of my life --" 

"You don't -- you won't even use my fucking *name* --" 

"Because I didn't want you to hear the Bruce in my voice. The Fox -- the Fox doesn't know how to say your name without losing cohesion. Without losing *himself* --" 

"What --" She snarls at him and finishes standing -- "I don't *care* that I don't know what that means. You -- you're *sick* --" 

"Because I didn't take my mask off? I don't recall your removing yours." 

"You already *knew* me, you *asshole*, I -- no, forget it, this is over." 

"*Selina* --" 

"*Don't* try to order me around, *Fox*. You *won't* like my reaction --" 

"Selina, please, I wasn't --" 

"I might go to prison for a few years for what I've done, *Foxy*, but you? Will be at the top of a hitlist which will include *everyone* you've ever loved. Maybe even that *Dinah*, whoever she is --" 

"You're *not* dishonorable--" 

"*Dishonorable*? Are you -- no, of *course* you're crazy. You think dressing up like... like..." Selina growls and turns to walk away -- 

But it's second nature, now, to catch her, to hold her wrists -- 

"Let. Go. Of. Me." 

"I want us to have a life together --" 

"Too *bad*," she says, and does her best to drive the point of her heel into his foot -- 

"Please, let me *speak* --" 

"Let go." 

"Selina --" 

"What do you think the tabloids will say if I scream rape and tear my *dress*, mama's boy?" 

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of him -- he lets go. 

Selina lifts her arms and turns them back and forth to look at her wrists. 

"I -- did I hurt you? I'm sorry --" 

"I would've let you -- hnn. You really are a piece of work, Bruce. Here's a hint you can take home to Mommy: If a woman fucks you on a rooftop? She wants you. If, after the fuck, the woman fails to invite you back to a place with a bed? She doesn't like you all that much. Amazingly enough? The two things go together *very* well sometimes." 

Bruce lets his hands fall to his sides. "Selina..." 

She looks at him then, and her eyes are cold with rage, and there's a stillness to her, a stiffness and unassailability -- "Goodbye, Bruce. Think *carefully* about running after me at night." 

And then she walks away. 

She walks -- 

Bruce sits down at the table again, and waits for the bill.


	7. Chapter 7

The Fox shouts at him when he stops on the building opposite Selina's, and shouts louder when he uses the scope to get an excellent view of the pattern on Selina's curtains. 

The Fox curses him when he sets up the directional microphone, but it does not hurt any worse than the sound of Selina packing. 

At least she'll be taking Holly with her...

And she just might enjoy Star City. 

Bruce lets the Fox take him -- 

The Fox rises and *spits* over the side of the roof -- 

The Fox flies.


	8. Chapter 8

The Fox knows the roof of this building as well as he knows the roof of his apartment building, or the roof of Central. He knows how the shadows fall for every phase of the moon, and where the wind bites the hardest. 

Most of all, he knows that it's a full moon *now*, and that that makes Gilda throw the curtains wide and step out onto the balcony. 

She's wearing the simple cream silk negligee Bruce had helped Harvey pick for her -- 

The Fox had wanted to choose something a lot more *exciting* -- 

The Fox knows that this isn't, quite, a place for him. He settles in the depths of a shadow and waits, watching Gilda curl her fingers around the wrought-iron railing and letting Bruce breathe deep, and deeper than that. 

There is a scent of green from nearby Grant Park, and the ubiquitous scent of car exhaust. There is the scent of what seems to be a pomodoro sauce, and the lingering scent of pretzels. 

There *isn't* the scent of Gilda's cold cream, not truly, but Bruce can imagine it just the same. 

He has never asked Gilda why she wears makeup every day, and whether she ever finds it incongruous to have the hands of a laborer and the face of a socialite. He's asked *Harvey* about it -- 

("Ah, you don't know, big guy. I'm pretty sure she didn't do it at all until I came along, and *I'm* afraid to ask, but she looks so *together*, so sharp and -- mm. Always makes me wanna bring my best, you know?") 

Harvey had said something similar about *him* once, but then he'd been laughing. He'd punched Bruce's arm and turned away to go back to his classwork. 

They'd been fourteen, and Bruce had spent much of that night pressing on the place Harvey had punched and hoping for a bruise to form. Hoping -- 

Here, now, Gilda is smiling at something Bruce can't be sure of and letting the wind tousle and tangle her dark hair. There are mildly bruise-colored half-circles under her eyes. 

There's a *hint* of fatigue in the way she's shifting unconsciously on her feet. 

She'd been working too hard on her latest pieces to attend Mother's last party -- 

Selina -- 

*Selina* -- 

Gilda's eyes are brown, though a much more golden brown than Harvey's, which are nearly black. Gilda's hands are square and strong. 

Gilda tenses slightly, perhaps for an errant breeze -- no, she's smiling the way she *only* does for Harvey. She -- 

Bruce sets up the directional microphone for the second time tonight -- 

"-- call the cops, 'cause I sure as hell didn't order a chick for dessert." 

Gilda snorts and shifts in such a way that one strap of her negligee -- the right one -- slips down over her shoulder.

"Ooh. Like that, is it? I think you should know, lady -- I'm an officer of the *court*." 

Gilda bites the tip of her tongue, shoulders shaking with laughter -- 

"I can't -- uh. Can't let just any --" Harvey growls and steps into Bruce's field of view, wrapping his arms around Gilda from the back and biting her bare shoulder. 

She pushes back against him -- 

He licks a stripe from her shoulder to her throat -- "How 'bout it, babe?" 

"How 'bout *what*?" 

Harvey grins and tightens his grip on her, pulling her back and shifting -- 

Bruce can't tell -- 

Bruce forces himself not to shift position. Movement would make stealth difficult, if not impossible, and Bruce needs -- 

I'm right *here*, Brucie. 

You're not what I need, Fox. 

You can't *have* what you need. Not all of it, anyway. 

It's only -- it's only that I don't think -- 

That good ol' Harv would begrudge you this? Think again, Brucie.

Bruce frowns and pushes the Fox aside. He -- 

Harvey and Gilda are sharing a kiss over her shoulder. She's cupping his beautiful face -- 

He's cupping the curves of her hips -- 

And they're laughing into each other's mouths as Harvey shifts -- oh, he's grinding his hips against her. Pressing his penis against her lower back -- 

("Ah, God, Bruce, I love the way she *smells* there." 

"Is there... is there a kind of musk?") 

And Harvey had grunted -- 

("That's -- that's kinda dirty, big guy. I don't think she'd really... uh. Hm." 

"It might... it might be worth a try --" 

"Bruce, I. I'm not sure. I don't think I should be talking about this with you." 

"Oh. Are you -- all right. I'm sorry --" 

"No! I started it. I want -- God, I wanna talk to you about everything. I *still* do, I mean -- hell.") 

And Harvey had covered his face with his hands -- 

His beautiful face, his beautiful hands -- 

("I'm so sorry. I -- I promise I'll get used to this, big guy. I promise I'll make this work for us." 

"Will you let me help?") 

And Harvey had *smiled* at him, so -- so rueful and *bright* -- 

("You're doin' it, big guy. Every -- every time you let us still be together." 

"Always, Harv." 

"Yeah. Yeah, always.") 

And Harvey had hugged him -- 

And Bruce had been very, very glad not to have an erection. He'd spent the night imagining the small of Gilda's back, and how the musk of her there might change after Harvey had touched her there. 

Here, now, Bruce has his many memories of the taste of Harvey's penis to guide him. Here -- 

Harvey's pants are around his ankles already, and his hands are on Gilda's breasts through the negligee. Anyone could see them -- but only if they were to share Bruce's rooftop. There are no apartments directly or even obliquely across from Harvey's apartment, and Harvey and Gilda have taken advantage of this many, many times. 

Still... 

Bruce checks the street below for passersby and sees some few people who may or may not choose to look up while positioned close to the old theater whose roof Bruce is using. The angle is a punishing one, thanks to the way Harvey's balcony almost seems to form a *cup* against the building. 

It's easy to imagine being there, on his knees. It's easy -- 

He would cup Gilda's foot, and kiss her ankle, and bite her heel -- 

Gilda moans, and Bruce's small fantasy disintegrates under the sight of her small breasts in Harvey's hands, Harvey's beautiful, *busy* hands. Her negligee is puddled around her feet. 

There is what appears to be a moderately serious scratch just above her navel. 

Her pubis is... 

There is a *shine* on the thicker, longer hairs leading between her legs. There -- 

("I don't think she *shaves*, big guy, and I'm trying for the *life* of me to remember why I hate that." 

"Why?" 

"*Principle*.") 

She moans again -- 

Again -- 

And Harvey's expression has gained that quality of lowering focus, of... 

There's something of the storm to it, a sense that Harvey is moments away from explosive motion, from *violence* of some sort -- 

("Aw, it's not that. I *am* Harvey Wayne now, and I'm *always* gonna be your brother. It's just that sometimes, inside, I think... I think maybe part of me is still Harvey *Dent*.") 

But what does that mean? What *could* it mean, when Harvey has only ever shown Bruce his honesty? His charm and wit and brilliance and -- and *love* -- 

"Whatcha got for me, chickie?" 

"Maybe you should try to find out, Harvey." 

"Now how..." And Harvey strokes around to push his fingers between her legs and *grip* her pubis -- 

"*Oh* --" 

"How would I do that, hunh?" 

"I -- fuck --" 

"Oh, cursing now? What do you think we do with bad girls around here, chickie?" 

"I don't know, but we think bad boys spend *way* too much time with their brothers." 

Harvey snickers and leans in to bite the curve of her ear -- 

"*Harvey* --" 

"Go on, curse for me again --" 

"Your kinks are so --" 

Harvey does something with his hand between her legs as he smiles sharply -- 

"Fuck -- *fuck*, Harvey --" 

"Anything else to say about my kinks?" 

She giggles like a girl half her age -- and the Fox gives Bruce an image of himself holding Dinah just that way -- 

Dinah and *not* Selina, because Selina doesn't love him. She doesn't even *like* him, and how -- 

How could it be so easy for her? 

Had the Fox stolen meaning from her and given only... only something base? 

Are you seriously blaming *me*? 

She -- she said -- 

Like she wasn't terrified of you. Of *us*. 

But if she was frightened -- 

Let her be scared. Let her -- 

If I could alleviate her *fears* -- 

Women like that need their fears more than they need men. 

What do *you* know about it, Fox? 

The Fox is silent, but Bruce knows that he's angered the man more than he's convinced him. Angered himself? 

*Could* he be angry at -- 

"Ohh, *yes* --" 

"What's it gonna be, chickie?" 

"Oh -- shut up and *fuck* me!" 

Harvey grins and thrusts -- 

Gilda grunts as her knees buckle -- 

Harvey helps her grip the balcony railing -- 

And her breasts swing in rhythm with Harvey's thrusts. Her breasts hang and *swing*, and Bruce doesn't know how Harvey doesn't *touch* them, doesn't *hold* them -- 

"Anybody ever tell you you're tight as hell?" 

Gilda cries out and growls -- 

"Aw, *yeah*, get *loud*, babe --" 

"Better -- better than *chickie* --" 

"Can't help it -- you're light as a bird," and Harvey pulls out -- 

His penis is slick and *shining* in the moonlight -- 

"God, fuck, *Harvey* --" 

Harvey spins Gilda and *lifts* her -- 

"You're *insane* --" 

"Get those arms around my neck --" 

"Fuck -- hell --" Gilda giggles and does it, wrapping her legs around his waist, too -- 

Harvey holds her with one *hand*, *gripping* her left buttock almost savagely as he guides himself back in -- 

"Ohn -- *Harvey* --" 

"Fuck, yeah, *squeeze* me, you little whore --" 

Gilda slaps him -- 

Harvey grins and snaps at her hand -- 

Gilda leans in and bites his jaw *hard* -- 

"Fuck, *yeah* -- but --" 

She pulls back and snarls. "No *marks* --" 

"Not where they can see, babe, but *everywhere* else," Harvey says, and emphasizes with a hard thrust -- 

Another -- 

*Another*, and Gilda throws her head back -- 

And Harvey growls and bites her throat --

And Bruce exhales into the air as he presses on his armored jock. The pressure is more painful than pleasurable, but the pleasure is enough -- 

Wonderfully *enough* -- 

Harvey's scrotum swings and Bruce -- 

Don't moan -- 

I won't. 

Are you gonna look away, Brucie? 

I can't. I can't. 

He's --

He's in love.

But not with us. 

I. I know -- 

You have to -- Bruce, this isn't *right*. 

It's only. It's only that I want to be *close* to someone!

Bruce, you can't -- 

Harvey growls again and spins Gilda again, pushing her body against the French doors -- 

"*Harvey* --" 

"Need it, fucking need you --" 

And it's impossible not to feel his rhythm. It -- 

Bruce can't look away from the way he's moving, from the way his buttocks are flexing for every thrust -- 

Bruce has *felt* that. Bruce has cupped those buttocks and begged, squeezed them and shouted -- 

As Gilda is shouting -- 

As she tosses her head -- 

And Bruce is there with them at last. Bruce is holding her slim ankles -- no. Bruce is tangling her hair even more with his fingers. Bruce is tugging her head back onto his shoulder. 

Bruce is cupping her breast and squeezing it, teasing the nipple -- 

Bruce is telling her how lovely she is, how *deceptively* delicate -- 

Bruce is moving Harvey's fingers to her anus -- no.

Bruce is dropping to his knees and holding her just steady *enough* that the way Harvey is thrusting doesn't break his nose with her body. He is spreading her and smelling her musk. He is -- 

He is dipping *in* with his tongue -- 

Gilda screams -- 

"*Fuck* me, babe, you're the best, the fucking best --" 

"Love you --" 

"Love you so *much* --" 

And Harvey kisses her to swallow her sounds -- 

And Bruce kisses her to drive her to make *more* sounds. He's always wanted to *feed* Harvey, and she's so beautiful -- 

Gilda, sweet Gilda -- 

Harvey stiffens and grunts -- 

Harvey *shudders* -- 

And the Fox fills his mind with the first time Harvey had ejaculated on Bruce's face -- 

("Oh, fuck, oh *no* --") 

The first time Harvey had ejaculated on Bruce's *chest* -- 

("Lemme -- lemme just rub it *in* a little, big guy --") 

And on Bruce's penis -- 

("Oh, God -- oh, God, fuck -- *mmm* --") 

Bruce squeezes the armored jock against himself and pants. 

And watches Harvey carry Gilda into the apartment proper. The French doors are smudged. 

Too smudged for him to see more without frustrating himself. 

Bruce closes his eyes for just a moment --

The Fox rises within him. They fly.


	9. Chapter 9

A journey to Metropolis from Gotham takes approximately three hours -- including the time it takes to get from the penthouse to the private airstrip out beyond Bristol. 

Wayne Enterprises has had a private jet for ten years now -- far less time than some companies -- and, in truth, it's hardly ever used. Even in a world with LexCorp rapidly gaining on WE's market share, the fact is that most of the people who wish to do business with WE come to *them*. 

*Present* themselves to them -- or, more specifically, to Father. Bruce knows that Father is somewhat worried about what will happen when it's time for him to retire, but Bruce *also* knows that it's not something over which Father loses sleep.

In Father's mind, Bruce is somewhat odd in terms of his interests and running terribly late in terms of building a family of his own, but still... correct. 

Bruce had studied and done well in the appropriate subjects -- even though he'd done so while traveling the world. 

Bruce is known to all the executives as being pleasant, quiet, bright, and responsible -- even though Bruce's actual appearances at WE can be termed as spotty, at best. 

Finally -- and, to Father, perhaps most importantly -- Bruce has used his odd interests and obviously distracted state of mind to create new things. The pleasure Father takes in his inventions is quite real, if never truly effusive, and Bruce has always known that that had little enough to do with WE's profits, and nearly *everything* to do with the fact that he had managed to inculcate Bruce with a love of and aptitude for the sciences. 

While it had always been clear that Father hoped Bruce would follow in his footsteps *exactly*, the man has always been capable of compromise. 

("Always remember, Bruce: There is a time for business and a time for matters of the heart. These two things are almost entirely different, and must always be kept that way so that both may thrive. However, there is a place where the two of them meet." 

"Yes, Father?")

And Father had narrowed his eyes in a smile which *shone* -- despite the fact that his mouth barely moved -- and led Bruce upstairs and into the East attic, where the bust he'd commissioned of Mother languished under a sheet. 

Father had pulled the sheet off with quiet, careful reverence, and there had been Mother as she'd looked three years before, when Bruce was seven, and Mother as she'd never been, because marble is much too hard. 

Bruce had reached out -- and stopped himself to look at Father, who had been smiling at *him* with his eyes. 

("It's all right, Bruce. If you smudge her, we can use the sheet to clean her off again." 

"Yes, Father.") 

The marble Mother's cheek was cold of course, but the curve of it was familiar, and perfect, and right. 

It brought Bruce back to a time when Mother could hold him in her arms, and he could reach and touch, always touch -- 

Bruce had pulled his hand back, and Father had wiped the small mark away with even more reverence. 

("She's beautiful, isn't she?" 

"Always, Father." 

"Mm. One day, I'll tell you the story of how we came to be married, but for now...") 

Mother had already told him, of course. At that age, the concept of an arranged marriage had seemed only right and proper. It's only as Bruce has aged that he's begun to wonder how Mother herself had felt about it at the time.

He wishes he weren't too afraid to ask. 

That day, though... 

("Bruce, your mother *loathes* her." 

"But... she's beautiful, Father." 

"Oh, yes, she is, but... well, your mother phrased it far more colorfully than this, but our marble goddess *disturbs* her." 

"I believe I'm confused, Father." 

"So was I, son. So confused that I *argued* with your mother about it." 

"That doesn't seem correct." 

"It isn't, at all. Two reasonable adults can and will come to disagree about any number of things, but *arguing* is almost never necessary. You must remember that." 

"Yes, Father. How... how did the argument end?"

"With me having Wilfred find a place for our beauty in the attic. Your mother wished for her to be broken into *shards*. *I* wished for her to be displayed as publicly as possible. The attic was a workable compromise for both of us. Do you understand?" 

"Compromise... is important?") 

And Father had smiled at him again, and cupped Bruce's shoulder even as he covered the bust once more. He'd straightened the fall of the sheet, and then led them back downstairs to his business -- not medical -- office. 

He'd sat behind his desk, and gestured Bruce to sit in the chair in front of it, and then he'd taken a deep breath and looked *deeply* into Bruce's eyes. 

("Compromise is the commonality between business and matters of the heart. Compromise is the glue which can make a marriage stronger, and which can allow a business to expand sensibly and profitably. However, more than either of those things, the ability to compromise is a gift which our minds have given us in the face of a world which, all too often, is crafted in shades of grey."

"Yes, Father. I'll remember.") 

Here... 

Right now, Bruce is wearing black suit pants, black shoes, black socks, black silk boxer shorts, and a black silk shirt. The shirt belongs to the Fox, though he hasn't worn it since the need for stronger armor had forced him to tailor his shirts a size and a half larger. 

His cufflinks are red-gold foxes caught mid-leap -- a gift from Alfred which Bruce is reasonably sure the man regrets at the moment, since Alfred had taken one look at Bruce's ensemble and gone back to counting. 

Or meditating. 

Right now, Bruce is preparing to compromise. 

Alfred... 

At the moment, Alfred is looking over the two other suits Bruce is bringing with him just in case. Bruce knows that Alfred is more than capable of making them stop at a Metropolis tailor shop before going to Lex's tower should the suits fail to meet his standards. More to the point, Bruce knows that *Alfred* knows of at least *four* tailors in Metropolis who could be drafted for those duties should they become necessary. 

Bruce sees nothing strange about the fact that he keeps forgetting that Alfred isn't a metahuman. 

He... 

Is Selina on a plane right now? 

Is she flying west on a flight path similar to Bruce's own? 

Does Holly enjoy flying first class? And where are the *jewels*? 

It isn't that he wants to recover them for some... some *mercenary* idea of justice. He just -- 

He doesn't want Selina to be caught with them. What if she chose Star City out of a belief that Oliver Queen couldn't catch her? 

The man drinks to excess and womanizes as if he receives points for each half-anonymous encounter... but he's very, very good at what he does. 

Perhaps he could call her and -- warn her. 

Or... if he could speak to Holly -- 

What if she likes Green Arrow more than she'd liked the Fox? It's -- it's a *twist* within him, an ache -- 

He wants her to be a part of his life, to be a part of *him* -- 

"Master Bruce." 

"Yes, Alfred." 

Alfred sighs and *looks* at him. He isn't quite raising his eyebrows, but the potential is there. 

"I'm listening, Alfred." 

"Has it occurred to you that you gave Miss Kyle a terrible shock?" 

Bruce frowns. "I... *yes*, Alfred, but --" 

"And that, perhaps, she might be *embarrassed* by her behavior with... your alter ego?" 

"But that's *foolish* --" 

"And that, *perhaps*, she might *also* be embarrassed by her inability to connect you *to* your alter ego?" 

"Only Lex and Kent *have* without my help --" 

"Does *she* know that?" 

Bruce frowns more deeply. "I... she wouldn't, no." 

Alfred hums. "There is, of course, the question of how she felt to find herself involved with someone on the precise opposite side of the law." 

"Not... not especially good." 

"Indeed, sir?" Alfred hums again. "Of course, there are many other concerns, and I cannot speak for Miss Kyle... but I believe that it would not be a *terrible* idea to give her the opportunity to speak for herself." 

"I'll call her now --" 

"No, sir." 

"But --" 

Alfred *looks* at him again. 

"I'm listening, Alfred." 

"Very good, sir. My point is only this: You have inspired Miss Kyle to drop absolutely everything and *cross the country* to get away from you --" 

"That was my *original* point, Alfred --" 

"Sir. Give her time." 

"I... how much? Precisely." 

Alfred raises his right eyebrow. 

"It's a reasonable question, Alfred!" 

Alfred sighs. "*Some* time, Master Bruce." 

"More... than a day?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Is it all right if I ask you every day --" 

"No, sir." 

"Hm." Bruce takes a deep, cleansing breath -- 

Let *me* out, Brucie... 

You'll get your chance. 

You're *wearing* me -- 

This *isn't* patrol -- 

You're *still* wearing me, Brucie. 

That's irrelevant -- 

Not to Lex, it won't be. It... hmm. Let us suck him off.

I. I don't know -- 

It's been a long time since Harvey, Brucie. But you still remember everything. 

And so do you. 

*Always*. Let me *out*!

No. 

You take too much *time*, Brucie -- 

I *own* this... this mind -- 

Do you? 

No one *wants* you, Fox! 

Alfred thinks Selina does. 

Alfred isn't always *correct*. 

Seven times... and she called *my* name every one of them. 

Father doesn't want you. Alfred doesn't want you. *Mother* doesn't want you. *Harvey* doesn't want you -- 

Dinah does. Lexie does. Selina does. And I bet Kent will if I get him *just* needy enough. Hey, it could be for justice -- keep him away from the *other* pretty boys. 

Bruce breathes, evening himself out and surreptitiously checking -- 

Alfred isn't paying attention to him. Good. 

Hey, it's not like I don't know *how* to be subtle. 

Bruce would like, very much, to be able to *stare* at the Fox -- 

Let me out and I'll show you how, and the Fox smiles with Bruce's mouth -- 

"Stop that, sir." 

"Yes, Alfred." I *told* you. 

The Fox grumbles under his breath. 

Bruce isn't at all sure how he feels about the fact that he can't hear him. 

The next hour of the flight is quiet, because Alfred has brought a copy of _Cyrano de Bergerac_ , and Bruce has both his well-worn copy of _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ , and his mother's heavily annotated copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. 

Bruce enjoys both books a great deal. The Fox does, too, but for entirely different reasons. The Fox *would* ask Mother about arranged marriage, but there's just no telling how he'd go about it. 

And how Mother would -- 

She *blushes* -- 

And Selina isn't here to slap him for being so... so... 

No one else has ever asked him so *directly* about his relationship with Mother. Not even Harvey -- though there have been times when Harvey has given him strange looks after being in a room with both Bruce and Mother. It's easy to fill those times in his mind with questions. Questions he would've answered honestly.

Honestly enough, perhaps, to disturb --

Even though he and Mother had never quite *freed* themselves around Harvey -- 

Not... the way they do when they're alone. 

Bruce frowns to himself and picks up _Pride and Prejudice_ , reading the parts which Mother had marked with things like: "Yes!" and "Ha!" and "If only..." and "Explain this to Bruce." 

Then he reads the parts of _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ which make the Fox *stop* leering and -- gaze nobly at things. In the distance. 

Then Alfred places the telephone on the small table beside him. 

"Alfred?" 

"You will find Miss Lance's telephone number in the appropriate place in your address book." 

Bruce blinks -- but he *would* like to speak with her. But also -- "Alfred, I'm not sure that's security-conscious enough." 

"The appropriate place in your address book is under 'florist,' sir. You *will* be using her shop for gifts to your loved ones, will you not?" 

"I... what if she isn't a *good* florist?" 

Alfred hums. "I took the liberty of perusing the arrangements she had on display. She takes a rather modernist approach, and is thus not entirely to *my* taste, but her work is most appropriate for your needs." 

"Oh. That's wonderful!" 

"Are you *proud* of Miss Lance, sir?" 

Is he? 

Yes, you really are, Brucie. I'm betting she'll either find it creepy, hot, or both. 

It's a question that bears thought. 

Agreed. 

Bruce smiles at Alfred ruefully. "I believe I am. She... she really is a delightful person. A *strong* person." 

"Indeed, sir? Then I will look forward to making her acquaintance soon. For now..." And Alfred looks pointedly at the telephone. 

"Yes, Alfred." 

Bruce pulls the address book from his inner jacket pocket and finds the number for Serenity Flowers precisely where Alfred said it would be. It's tempting to see what other numbers and addresses are in the book, but Bruce isn't sure he's strong enough for that. 

It would and *wouldn't* be like Alfred to have, say, Hal Jordan's contact information available at the touch of a fingertip. Perhaps for Wayne Enterprises' heretofore fictional Aeronautics division. 

Wouldn't be the *worst* idea, Brucie. 

Yes, it would. He's a horrible person. 

He is *not*. 

He's leading Carol Ferris on while carrying on affairs with assorted aliens -- as well as the women he picks up with Oliver Queen. 

Do you not *remember* what Ferris is like? 

I *remember* that she's monogamous. 

She's a *harpy*. 

Selina used that word. 

Selina, Selina, *Selina*. Get over her! 

You miss her, too. 

So what? 

Alfred clears his throat. 

Be quiet, Bruce thinks, and dials. 

You'll need me soon enough. 

Until then -- 

"Serenity Flowers, how can we help you today?" 

Bruce smiles helplessly -- "Your professional voice is wonderful." 

"Excuse me?" 

Bruce blinks. "I'm sorry, Dinah. This is Bruce Wayne." 

"Uh. And you're calling me *here*?" 

"I'm afraid I don't have any other contact information for you at present," Bruce lies -- no. "I'm sorry, that was a lie. I wanted to speak to you as soon as possible, and I knew you would be at your shop." 

"You... have other numbers for me?" 

"Your home number. And your specific... frequency, let's say." 

"How the hell did you -- no, never mind, I'm not asking. *Yet*. *Why* do you want to speak with me?" 

Well, that -- 

Let *me*, Brucie!

She won't think you're sincere. No one does. "I wanted... I wanted more of you." 

"And that means?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I recognize that we have a fundamental difference of opinion about what constitutes reasonable security --" 

"He's an *ally*!" 

"And he has been, in the past... controlled by negative influences." 

"It could happen to *any* of us, Bruce!" 

"Very true. Which is why I've been working on ways to... alleviate the threats posed by every other member of... your organization." 

"Including me." 

"Yes." 

"God, you --" Dinah cuts herself off with a snort. "But you want more of me." 

"I don't see... I would never use lethal force." 

"You don't see *what*?" 

Bruce closes his eyes, but only for a moment. "I don't see... a conflict between the two desires." 

"How can you -- *argh*, hold on," she says, and sets the receiver down. 

In the background, Bruce can hear Dinah conversing with a customer about lavender alstroemeria and whether or not it could reasonably share space in an arrangement with marigolds. 

Perhaps that's what modern flower arrangement means? 

Would Selina like -- 

"Okay, I'm back. Have you ever thought about what might happen if someone else discovers your identity and breaks into your... home?" 

That wouldn't *happen* -- except. "I do see what you're saying, Dinah, but --" 

"But *nothing*. All we *have* against these -- people sometimes are our secrets, and you want to blow them wide open." 

"And yet... I'm not comfortable trusting these secrets to my own mind --" 

"You're not comfortable *trusting* period!" 

"Oh... I wouldn't say *that*, gorgeous," and the Fox smiles brightly, happily -- 

And Alfred's sigh is *distinctly* long-suffering -- 

"*You* never gave me your last name, *Bruce*." 

"There is no doubt in my mind that I would've, Dinah -- and sooner rather than later." 

"And I'm supposed to trust *you* about that?" 

"I think we made a good start at just *that*..." 

Dinah blows out a breath. "Do you know who you are right now?" 

"Not even a *little*..." And Bruce drags himself up. "And that's just one of the things I'd like to discuss with you at length." 

"God, we *so* need some shrinks in this community. I --" She sighs. "Look, don't write it down, okay? I know where you're coming from, and I can even see --" A growl. "It would be so fucking *easy* for me to... hurt people. And that scares me. And I think it at least secretly scares all of us, and Clark more than anyone else." 

"Truly?" 

"He's a *good* man, Bruce. He's kind, he's warm, he's loving -- all right, whisper time," she says, and lowers her voice. "He's even a *vegetarian*, because he sees auras around all living things and can't bring himself to -- to snuff one out just for the sake of a damned *burger*." 

"That's admirable, but --" 

"Did you *ask* the... professionals how they felt about him?" 

("*You're* the reason he doesn't come around anymore?" 

"Did you seriously -- he was our *meal* ticket, asshole!" 

"*Literally*! He bought us whatever we wanted --" 

"And he took *care* of us --" 

"*All* of us!" 

"*And* he's hung like a horse." 

"Like a *big* fucking horse." 

"-- could make it not *hurt* --" 

"-- *never* hurt --" 

"--*good* --") 

Bruce winces. "The Fox... has something of a charity. To make up for his absence." 

"And is it *only* the money they miss?" 

Bruce takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Dinah --" 

"*That's* an answer. Look, he's a giant perv. There's no getting around that -- hang on," and she puts the receiver down again. 

This time, the customer is a young woman asking about white roses as a gift for her mother. Dinah explains some few of the cultural meanings behind the different colors of roses, and the young woman seems quite happy to choose daffodils, instead.

"Where was I?" 

"Kent's perversity." 

"Yeah, that. Look, I -- I was *young* when I hooked up with him, and I'm not saying it didn't scare the hell out of me --" 

Bruce growls -- 

"Oh, for fuck's sake -- you don't *know* me well enough to have that reaction!" 

"If we made distinctions like that --" 

"All right, okay, okay, you have a point --" She sighs again. "Sometimes he scares me so much I can't even think straight, but that has less than *nothing* to do with his personality and kinks, and everything to do with how incredibly powerful he is, and how *alien* he is." 

"But --" 

"Okay, so that's a little of his personality, too. But shit, Bruce, part of that alien thing is that he's from fucking *Kansas*. I mean, he brings his mother's *pies* to -- our meetings. Sometimes." 

"I. Pie?" 

"And cake. And cookies. And fresh bread *with* fresh-churned butter. And once? A *ham*. Which Clark graciously allowed us to devour without giving us too many disappointed looks." 

Bruce frowns and tries to picture it... "You... you're all friends, though..." 

"Not *that* kind of friends. I mean, sure, some of us go out for meals and drinks and things like that, but seriously, who *bakes* these days? Do *your* parents put bags of cookies in your little pockets?" 

"My parents have no idea what I do with my nights... but even then, no. I believe Mother would happily stab anyone who tried to make her bake something. Though Father would certainly try to do it if Mother wanted him to." 

Dinah snorts. "Oh, yeah. Dr. CEO in the kitchen. 'cause that happens *all* the time." 

Bruce smiles. "He *is* quite good at chemistry, Dinah. He might surprise both of us." 

"If he does? Invite me over for coffee and dessert." 

"I was wondering if I could do that, anyway. My man about the house is an excellent chef, among many other fabulous and exciting talents." 

"Your -- right. Because you're *exactly* that rich. Jesus. No, wait, how wealthy *are* you?" 

"Father has never been especially fond of that sort of measurement --" 

"Too 'crass?'" 

Bruce smiles. "In a nutshell. Father is... very correct. By my own measurements, Father has control of or access to four billion dollars." 

"Uh." 

"Yes?" 

"You better be paying all those rent -- professionals *really* well, Bruce." 

The Fox rises and smiles. "I do try to keep the people I like happy, gorgeous." 

Dinah snickers. "Okay, now you sound like *Clark*. Only *dirty*." 

"You don't think he's dirty enough as he is?" 

"I *do*. That's why what you did was *wrong*." 

"Tell me more about him?" 

"I -- where are you? I'll close the shop and we can go to lunch or something and quit all the whispering." 

Bruce's heart beats faster and he smiles -- "I would love to --" 

"Then --"

"I'm actually on my way to Metropolis." 

"Uh. You're... going to see him?" 

"I'm going to see Lex Luthor." 

"You're fucking -- hold on!" She puts the receiver down -- 

And is immediately scolded for her language by a woman who sounds like she's in her seventies or eighties. Dinah apologizes somewhat perfunctorily -- 

And the older woman scolds her even more roundly. 

And at length. 

At very *long* length -- 

"All right, all right. Do your friends buy many flowers, Miss?" 

"Not at all, young lady. Why?" 

"Because I don't need your *motherfucking*, *shit-sucking*, *ass-wiping*, *prude-sniffing* business. Get the fuck out." 

"Well, I *never*!" 

"I can *tell*," Dinah says, and picks up the receiver again. "You fucking well better still be there, Bruce --" 

"I am. I. Prude sniffing?" 

"Do I need to curse you out, too?" 

"Hopefully not --" 

"*Why* are you going to see *him*? You *have* to know what he's about!" 

"We went to school together --" 

"You. *Seriously*? Wait, that's not good enough --" 

"When we were seniors, he witnessed something which could, if he chose to share it, destroy the professional life of someone very important to me --" 

"He's *blackmailing* you?" 

"Actually, no. However, I owe him a very, very large favor, and I tend to take that kind of thing seriously." 

"What the hell are you going to *give* him? What happens -- wait, you were in school with him. Were you *training* then? Does he *know*?" 

Answering yes would be honest, and would allow Dinah and her loved ones to *prepare* should the worst eventually occur. Answering no would allow him -- and the Fox -- room to maneuver, room to *have* Lex -- 

Is that what he wants? 

*Absolutely*, Brucie, baby. 

Still -- 

All right, all right, you can be honest. They're never gonna trust you anyway. 

But -- 

You're the odd man out, Brucie. And? Kent *hates* you. 

"Bruce? Are you still there? Wait, are you on your *jet*?" 

"I am, yes. Dinah... he's known about me for at least two years." 

"*Fuck*! But -- *how* is he not blackmailing you?" 

"I imagine it helps that I'm not a member of your organization." 

"But you *have* to join us, Bruce!" 

"I'll be discussing the matter -- and many other things -- with him soon." 

"You can't let scum like him *run* you!" 

"I assure you, Dinah, I don't intend to." 

"What *do* you intend?" 

"Conversation about my security -- I'm afraid that it's likely going to be a while before I can fully trust Kent --" 

"*Bruce* --" 

"A moment, please." 

Dinah growls under her breath -- 

Blows *out* a breath -- 

"Okay, I'm listening." 

"Thank you, Dinah. As I was saying, we'll be discussing Kent -- as obliquely as humanly possible. This means that, among other things, I'll be explaining to Lex exactly what will happen to him should he not leave off some of his more... problematic activities." 

"You -- he has you over a *barrel*, Bruce! With your pants around your *ankles*." 

"Oh, gorgeous, that's for *after* lunch..." 

Dinah snorts. "What is it with you and *criminals*?" 

"To be fair, Dinah, I've thus far kept my focus on extremely *attractive* criminals." 

"Oh, *eugh*! He's bald! All *over*!" 

Bruce blinks. "That's... unattractive?" 

"Bruce, *Ted* took my virginity. If they don't look like they could carry at least two bison back to my cave? I'm not even going there." 

The Fox grins delightedly. "Well, I *was* thinking about waxing my chest --" 

"Don't you *dare* --" 

"And my upper arms --" 

"Oh -- guh! Um. Is it... is it patchy there?" 

"It flows in a continuous pattern from my chest down to my knuckles." 

Dinah moans softly -- "Hell, hold *on*!" She puts the receiver down -- 

And discusses the world's worst-smelling orchids with a man who sounds both young and... 

Well, Mother would say 'weedy,' and Bruce has to admit that that does seem to be the case. There's a certain degree of *passionate* exactitude to the man's speech that Bruce can't help finding attractive. 

The Fox offers an image of Dinah bent over a school desk with her ankles attached to a spreader bar and her wrists restrained. 

Over the next desk is a young man with dark hair and... wire-rimmed glasses. He's thin -- almost too thin -- but quite muscular. 

Both of them are struggling to some extent -- 

"-- still there?" 

The Fox growls a greeting -- 

"Ooh --" 

"Tell me... is Ted hairy all *over*?" 

"Didn't you ever shower with him?" 

"At that age, it seemed like I was hard more often than I wasn't, gorgeous. It didn't seem... politic." 

Dinah giggles. "Yeah, it pretty much takes an aphrodisiac to get Ted into men, unfortunately." 

"The world is a *needlessly* cruel place at times --" 

"Yes! It is! Which is why you shouldn't threaten Lex without *backup*!" 

Bruce rises and laughs softly. "Lex takes great pleasure in my functional madness, Dinah. It *delights* him -- and he believes in it utterly. I plan to make sure he understands that madness can have an... edge." 

"Hmm. The 'mad dog with nothing to lose' ploy *does* work pretty well on most supervillains, it's true." 

"Certainly, that's been my experience. Though the 'psychotically cheerful prancing freak with the knives' ploy has also been reasonably effective." 

Dinah snorts again. "God, and your bad guys are so fucking weird!" 

"A matter of opposites attracting, really. There's Nygma, who seems to want to be more psychotically homosexual than I am, and the Bennett woman, who keeps trying to 'purify' Gotham from people like me --" 

"And Cobblepot's rackets, and that -- oh, that *beast* guy, what's his name?" 

"Jackson, and his endless calls for an end to civilization. Or possibly just an end to good diction." 

Dinah *snickers* and sighs. "Yeah, I'm gonna have fun working with you." 

The Fox grins. "Glad to hear it, gorgeous. Come play *anytime*." 

"Maybe I want you to play with me right *now*." 

"Oh...?" 

Dinah hums. "The shop's empty, Brucie. It'd just take me a minute to flip the sign... and then we could *talk*." 

The Fox licks his lips. "I *love* to talk, gorgeous. Why, I could do it all night." 

"What *else* can you do all night?" 

"I --" 

Alfred clears his throat. 

Bruce rises and blushes. "Ah. Apparently listen to my man about the house, who is currently my man about the passenger compartment of the jet." 

Dinah -- caws. 

"Yes --" 

"Don't you have a *bedroom* on that thing? What kind of billionaire *are* you?" 

Bruce laughs quietly. "Apparently, a far too chaste one. I'll work on that." 

"Hmph. You *better*. Oh, damn, here comes Napier. I can see his stupid little bowtie from here." 

"Napier?" 

"Yeah, this prop comic from Little Ibiza. He's always trying his jokes out on me, and I just -- he's funny? But funny in the 'yeah, I laughed, and now I need to beat your ass' way." 

"I take it he's not especially hairy." 

"The day that man grows a mustache is the day I wear pants." 

The Fox grins. "Spanky pants...?" 

Dinah snickers. "Don't make me laugh when he's here! It'll just encourage him!" 

"Hmm. He behaves inappropriately?" 

"Oh, God, no. He's got a wife and a kid, and *guaranteed* he's here to buy his weekly bouquet *for* his wife. He puts bowties on the kid, too, by the way -- and he's here." Dinah sighs. "When are you getting back?" 

"Hopefully tonight, but I've packed for two days." 

"Call me?" 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Of course. And -- you could call me anytime --" 

"I am *not* writing down Bruce Wayne's number while I'm in *public*!" 

"Hm. As you say." 

"I *do* say. Talk to you soon." 

"Until then, you have my warmest regards." 

"Uh, *huh*," and she hangs up the telephone. 

Bruce does the same, and tries to quiet his smile. To... calm himself? 

He *is* calm. It's just that he's very happy. And -- 

"That seemed quite congenial, sir." 

"It was, Alfred. A bit rocky at the beginning, but, well, she's a young woman of great good sense. And has a welcoming nature, as well." 

"Indeed, sir?" 

Bruce turns his chair around so he can face Alfred -- 

Alfred is holding one of the tranquilizer guns. 

"I -- Alfred?" 

"A precaution only, sir," Alfred says, and polishes it with his handkerchief. "Nothing for you to worry about." 

"All right..." 

"You were saying?" 

Bruce blinks and focuses. "Yes. She doesn't like to think about her allies -- truly, her friends, lovers, and surrogate family -- being turned to their dark sides by outside forces, or, perhaps, the stresses of this lifestyle, but she understands that it's important *to* consider these things." 

Alfred nods and tucks the tranquilizer gun back in the case. "And you discussed the pedophile?" 

"She's very fond of Kent, and invested in me seeing him as a good man --" 

Alfred sniffs -- 

"Indeed. She also admitted to being quite frightened of his powers and alien nature, but then softened that by pointing out that his extremely Midwestern childhood was as alien to her as the rest." 

"I suppose that is reasonable, considering what her own upbringing must have been like." 

Bruce nods. "That was always the thing which made me most uncomfortable with her mother, and, of course, with Ted Grant and the other members of the JSA." 

Alfred nods, but his gaze is shadowed. 

"Alfred?" 

"Master Bruce... do you ever intend to have a family of your own?" 

"I -- I *have* a family --" 

"Sir." 

Bruce sighs. "I do know what you mean, Alfred. And... I've thought about it. I haven't quite let myself fantasize about Selina to that degree, but I told her that I wished to have her be a part of my life. *All* of my life." 

Alfred nods, but his eyes are still somewhat shadowed. "And children of your own?" 

"I -- I don't think so, Alfred. I would -- at least -- not until I felt comfortable retiring. I wouldn't want to risk exposing a child to this life. Or. Perhaps... if I adopted an older child..." Bruce frowns. "No, that doesn't work, at *all*. What if the child I chose was vehemently against vigilantism? Or -- or would simply worry too much about me. Or... some other..." Bruce shakes his head. "And then, of course, there's the fact that I'm often a blithering *fool*. No, I have no business having children, Alfred. Not at this point in my life." 

"Very well, sir. And then Alfred narrows his eyes shrewdly. "And Miss Lance?" 

Bruce smiles. "I've made a friend, Alfred! She seems quite impressed with me, even." 

"And you wish her to be *only* a friend?" 

"I --" Oh, dear. "Hm." 

Alfred raises his right eyebrow. 

Bruce winces. 

"Yes, Master Bruce?" 

"It's only... hm. It's only that I believe her to be... too young... for me to consider a long-term romantic relationship with her." 

Alfred raises *both* of his eyebrows. 

"I -- Alfred --" 

"As opposed to a 'friendship with *benefits*,' sir?" 

"I know it's... not very *correct* --" 

"Hm." 

"And -- it isn't -- I respect her a great *deal*, Alfred. I mean -- she's quite strong, and very... very well-trained --" 

"Indeed, sir?" 

"And she's wise -- I've mentioned that!" 

"So you have." 

"Oh -- Alfred, I don't think she'd even *want* that sort of relationship. With *anyone*. Not right now, anyway --" 

"I agree with you." 

"And -- you do?" 

Alfred twinkles at him. Briefly. "Many a young businesswoman starting out in the world is far more interested in furthering her career than in even the *concept* of starting a family. I daresay it must be much the same within the vigilante community." 

Bruce takes a deep breath. "Well -- *yes*. At least -- it seems -- I have no idea. But I do plan to find out." 

"See that you do, sir. I do not wish to dash your hopes about Miss Kyle, but it *may* turn out to be more... reasonable for you to search for a partner within the community with whom you share at least *most* of a moral code." 

Bruce frowns. "That... does seem to be good sense." 

Alfred leans over and pats Bruce's hand. "All may not be as we wish it, Master Bruce, but I remain confident that all will be well." 

Bruce squeezes Alfred's hand. "Yes, Alfred." 

"We will be landing in twenty-three minutes, barring unforeseen calamity. I highly recommend you spend that time achieving mental peace and clarity for your upcoming... encounter." 

Bruce nods. "We'll have the car drop us at the Spectrum before I go to the Tower. I believe I wish to shave again." 

Alfred doesn't raise an eyebrow, but it truly seems as though he *wants* to. 

Bruce closes his eyes to it and sinks deep.


	10. Chapter 10

The LexCorp tower is a marvel of sleekly grand architecture. It gleams. It reaches. It *exhorts* -- and Bruce doesn't think it could be more suited to Lex's personality without a lepidolite sparkle. 

Bruce allows himself a moment to stand in its shadow and *feel* before walking in and heading for the front desk. 

The woman there is tall, apparently in her mid-thirties, and lovely -- with the sort of aggressive perfection Bruce has often thought *only* younger black women can achieve. Her hair is 'relaxed' and falls in waves to her shoulders, her earrings are small, yet exuberant, and her skin is the precise color of the civet coffee Bruce sincerely regrets trying in Malaysia. She wears her sunflower yellow suit as if she knows precisely how unattainable she seems -- 

And then she smiles at him warmly, and Bruce's impression of the woman shatters -- or *would* have shattered, had he not been watching her eyes. Lex pays this woman very, very well. 

Bruce smiles back. "Hello, I'm --" 

"Bruce Wayne." She stands and offers her hand. "My name is Prudence. Welcome to LexCorp." Her voice is smooth, light, and *sharp*. 

Bruce shakes her hand gently but firmly. "Thank you, Prudence. Lex is expecting me, but we never did specify a time...?" 

"I'm to escort you personally to the penthouse, Mr. Wayne. I've already notified Mr. Luthor of your arrival, and he'll join you as soon as he can. If you'll just give my replacement a moment to arrive?" 

"Of course. Do you mind if I ask you how long you've been a LexCorp employee? Or... perhaps you were a part of LuthorCorp?" 

Prudence -- shows her teeth. "Hardly, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Luthor hired me only two weeks ago." 

"He must have the utmost respect for your abilities, Prudence," and Bruce inclines his head. "I, of course, trust his opinions on such things." 

She narrows her eyes and cocks her head -- slightly -- to the side. "Indeed, Mr. Wayne?" 

"Please, Prudence, call me Bruce." Because if you call me Fox, then I suspect I'll be fighting you for my life even sooner than I expect to.

Another show of teeth. "Bruce, then. Mr. Luthor tells me the two of you have known each other for quite some time...?" 

"Since we were fourteen. Lex was one of the brightest lights at Exeter Academy." 

"'One of...?'" 

Bruce smiles. "Forgive me, Prudence -- I'm rather biased toward my brother." 

"Gotham's next District Attorney, Harvey Wayne." 

"Or so we all hope." 

Prudence nods thoughtfully and runs a finger over the inside edge of her desk, where there is almost certainly at least one panic button -- and at least one AK-47. The plasma rifles could almost certainly never be *lethal* enough for a woman like Prudence. 

"Would you tell me where you worked before?" 

This time, her smile -- nearly -- reaches her eyes. "Here and there." 

"And... your chosen field?" 

This time, she cocks her head further to the side. Her smile resembles a *crocodile's* -- "I believe you already know that... Bruce." 

Bruce hums. "I'm... familiar with some of Lex's hiring habits, yes. Have there been many problems requiring your undoubtedly unique skill-set?" 

"No, Bruce. But I vastly look forward to whatever challenges may arise," she says, and turns to narrow her eyes at the elevator -- 

And Hope Terrell walks out *briskly*. 

Her suit is the color of aged bone -- beautiful against her deeply mahogany skin -- and she's changed her hair from her short and unfashionable 'natural' to long cornrows. At the end of each braid there's a slim, cylindrical wooden bead, and they clack like the mandibles of grave beetles. 

Bruce waits for the Fox to tell him that he's taking things too far -- 

Brucie, baby, *I've seen her eyes, too*. 

So you have. 

Hope's gaze sweeps over him in an instant which leaves Bruce feeling distinctly *less* -- 

And then she smiles. Brightly. 

There isn't a single goddamned thing in her eyes! Stop looking!

That would be *incredibly* foolish -- 

She's making my hard-on go away, Brucie. 

Perhaps we should invite her back to Gotham. 

The Fox snarls -- and subsides. 

Bruce smiles and inclines his head to Hope. "Miss Terrell, a pleasure to see you again." 

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She blinks. Once. And turns to Prudence. "Are you ready." 

"Oh -- always," and Prudence winks at Hope winningly -- 

Hope hums. And takes Prudence's chair. 

Prudence gestures toward the elevators. "Shall we?" 

"Oh, yes," Bruce says, and offers his arm once she steps from behind the desk. 

Prudence takes it and begins to hum as they walk. 

"Will you tell me the song?" 

"Helter Skelter." 

"I see." 

I changed my mind. We're not blowing him. 

Fox -- 

Why the hell are you -- wait, no, we have to stop splitting. 

*Now* you say that? 

*Yes*. Because we're surrounded by honest to God *psychotics*, and I don't want to be one of them!

We're hardly murderous psychopaths -- 

We're one person. One. *I'm* one person. 

I -- 

I'm *you*! I'm the part of you which wanted to *be* Harvey as much as you wanted to fuck him. I'm the part of you which wanted to be *dirty*. I'm the part of you which *doesn't* choose loneliness. I'm the part of you which -- which -- fuck, *help*! 

It's just that you *seem* so different -- 

It can't be right that we're like this, that we're *doing* this -- 

You see, Fox, you're using 'we,' too -- 

I can speak clearly and -- and conservatively, too. I can lead a psychopath into the lion's den like -- like we're going to a *dance* -- 

Of course, but you don't *have* to -- 

Bruce, *help*! 

I'll -- consider it. 

You're *me*. I'm *you* -- 

I need you -- 

I'm right *here* -- 

I can't be alone anymore. It's too. It's too much. 

I -- 

"Here we are, Bruce," and Prudence's gesture seems to take in all of Metropolis -- much of which is visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the three rooms immediately visible. 

The glare *should* be blinding, but -- ah. "The windows block certain spectrums of light?" 

"So Mr. Luthor has told me." 

Bruce pats Prudence's arm. "Would you tell me why you still call him Mr. Luthor? Usually the women he renames are more... casual." 

This time, Prudence's smile does reach her eyes, giving her a warmth and beauty, a *wild* hint of youth -- 

Lex sees this all the time. 

Lex may very well prefer the other. 

And Bruce raises his eyebrows -- 

"Kink purposes, Bruce. I've always wanted to be a naughty secretary." 

"I --" Bruce turns as the thin and meager shadows shift just enough to announce Lex's presence. "Hello, Lex."

"Bruce." Lex is standing in the doorway leading to a room Bruce can't see. *His* shirt is the color of fresh cream -- 

And his suit is lavender linen. His shoes are closer to *violet* -- 

And he's wearing eyeliner. 

Okay, we can blow him. 

Thank you. "It's wonderful to see you again, Lex." 

"Mm. Would you do me a favor...?" 

Bruce releases Prudence and gives her his -- side. "If I can." 

"Top three buttons. Would you mind opening them...?" 

"All right, Lex, but if you want me to wear a gold chain and grow a mustache, this is going to be a very brief lunch." 

Lex bites his lip -- and quickly walks close enough that Bruce can see the bright and febrile *joy* in his eyes. "Please." 

"As you say," and Bruce opens the buttons -- 

And Lex immediately opens the shirt as wide as it will go -- *without* touching Bruce's skin. 

"Better?" 

"*Much*." And Lex turns to Prudence. "Prudence, you will *never* be a merely *naughty* secretary. You... you are the apotheosis of *wicked* secretaries. You are an *evil* secretary. You may very well be a *psychopathic* secretary. 'Naughty' is for bored housewives and overindulged children. Remember that." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor." 

"Now get down on your knees and get Bruce hard." 

"Ah -- Lex." 

Lex raises an -- uncolored today -- eyebrow. "No...?" 

Bruce smiles wryly and turns to Prudence -- who is down on *one* knee. 

The Fox shudders within him. 

Bruce holds himself still. "You're quite beautiful, Prudence, but I find myself absolutely terrified of you. The amount of effort it would take to arouse me in your presence would thus be unfair to you and impede your performance of your usual duties." 

Prudence snorts -- and turns to Lex. 

Lex sighs. "I suppose we'll have to play that game another day -- but Bruce was lying *horribly* about terror not getting him harder." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor. May I...?" 

"You may. *Share* the desk with Hope for a while. Smile -- and tell her to do the same. Later, tell me how many people flee rather than talking to either of you." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor," she says, then stands and departs. 

Lex watches her walk away with avid pleasure. 

The Fox watches her walk away while shifting Bruce's body enough to make them fully aware of the knife taped to his spine -- 

"Are you armed?" 

"Yes," Bruce says, and doesn't turn until the elevator doors are fully closed. When he does -- 

Lex is beautiful. As a teenager, he'd been slightly too lean for his height and the shape of his head. Now he has a body type much like Harvey's -- and Lex almost certainly doesn't miss as many meals as Harvey does. His mouth is still the soft, sensual pink bow it was then, though, and his hands are still square and strong in appearance. 

Bruce gives himself permission to stare at them when Lex crosses his arms over his chest. "Only lightly, however." 

"What does that mean to a man like you?" 

The Fox smiles somewhat helplessly -- 

And Lex's intake of breath is -- very sharp. 

Very... fascinating. Bruce pushes the Fox down and moves closer, close enough that he can rest a hand on Lex's left pectoral through his shirt. His warmth is human and comprehensible. He -- "It means I'd probably have to hit your bodyguards very hard in order to get them to leave me alone." 

"Mm. Prudence isn't a closer. You wouldn't ever touch her." 

"Is that a dare...?" 

Lex narrows his eyes and cocks his head -- 

"Do you teach all of your bodyguards that gesture?" 

"Sometimes I forget that they didn't teach *me* -- I. Hm," Lex says, and licks his lips. "What do I want from you?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I don't think I can answer that question --" 

"Lie." 

"Is it?" 

"Fine. What do you *think* I want from you?" 

"Your surface self wants my admiration and support. Your inner self wants my love --" 

Lex snorts. "Bruce." 

"Yes, *Bruce*. I'm the boy you missed, Lex. The boy capable of *unconditional* love. And, Lex? I've seen your eyes." 

Lex tilts his head back slightly -- and nods. "How do I make you love me, do you think?" 

Bruce leans in and presses his nose against the column of Lex's throat. 

"Bruce..." 

"I've always loved your colognes, Lex." 

"Yes, I thought this one was *especially* lavender. Its advertisements are filled with beautiful young men with waxed chests beaming at each other while women smile vaguely in the -- far -- distance. Answer my question." 

"I tend to fall in love instantly, if at all," Bruce says, and licks Lex's pulse point. 

Lex stiffens -- and then relaxes himself with quiet, perfect deliberation. "Are you saying it's too *late* for us, darling...?" 

The Fox rises -- and *lightly* bites Lex's throat. "I *never* say never, dollface --" 

Lex snorts. "Step back." 

Bruce breathes hot against Lex's throat instead. "Are you sure." 

"I'm sure about *everything* I do, Bruce," and Lex presses one palm flat to Bruce's abdomen and strokes up to Bruce's sternum. And pushes. 

The Fox grins and steps back with grace and more than a little showmanship -- 

"They hate you, don't they?" 

"Pardon?" 

"The *other* --" And Lex's lip curls -- "heroes." 

"What makes you say --" 

"Bruce." 

Bruce laughs and inclines his head. "*Most* of them have avoided trying to beat me to a bloody pulp... but then, most of them didn't take the Fox seriously enough for that." 

Lex's expression turns avid -- 

*Hungry* -- 

"Bruce..." 

"Yes, Lex?" 

"Who knows what you can do? *Everything* you can do." 

The Fox grins. "Criminals with *nasty* head injuries." 

Lex licks his lips. "I want you." 

"I noticed." 

"Not for *that* -- much." 

The Fox raises Bruce's eyebrow -- 

And Lex laughs breathily. "All right. Let's say -- I want that rather more than I'm *entirely* comfortable with --" 

"Lex," Bruce says, and narrows his eyes. "Do you remember how I would stare at you?" 

"Of course. It would piss Harvey off *terribly* --" 

"He never took his anger out on me --" 

"Of course not. But you don't *only* get hot for nobility. Do you." 

Bruce shakes his head slowly. "Did you like it, Lex?" 

Lex grins. "I had nightmares involving you deciding to free my entrails from their bodily prison, darling... but that doesn't mean I didn't love it." 

Bruce blinks -- 

And Lex laughs again. "Not *quite* that much fear-based response in your own libido, Bruce...?" 

Bruce holds up a finger to consider that question in depth -- 

No. 

Fox --

*No*. *We're not that crazy*. 

Are you sure? I'm thinking of certain knife-wielding gentlemen -- 

And the women, too, sure, but -- 

No actual fantasies of death or maiming? 

Not that we get hard for. I -- well. 

Not our *own* maiming, yes, I see. 

And we definitely don't want to have sex with the people we maim. Not with any -- 

Temporal proximity. All right. Bruce focuses on Lex and nods. "I believe you're somewhat more mad than I am, Lex." 

Lex cocks his head to the side. And narrows his eyes. 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. 

"They don't --" Lex sighs. "Honestly, they wouldn't *be* my bodyguards if they threatened *my* health on a regular basis." 

Bruce raises his eyebrows higher. 

"Do you have *any* idea how many high-profile men and women have been injured or killed due to their bodyguards losing their edge?" 

"I... suppose you *don't* truly have to worry about that, but Lex --" 

"Better," Lex says, and jabs two fingers at Bruce's chest, "the devil you know." 

"Hm. How well *can* you know --" 

"Wait." 

"Yes, Lex?" 

Lex smiles. "That brought me back to my original thought: join me." 

"I'm already --" 

"You know what I mean." 

Bruce -- takes a deep breath. 

No. 

Fox -- 

*No*. 

Bruce shakes his head -- 

"Then listen to my offer in depth first." 

"Lex, the things you do with your time and money --" 

"Are *despicable*, yes, I know --" 

"Then why do you do them?" 

Lex narrows his eyes -- "Come with me." 

"Where --" 

"To my underground bunker full of dastardly deeds in the making, of course. We're *going* to discuss this." 

The Fox rises and shows his teeth. "Sure you don't want to discuss something else entirely, dollface?" 

Lex shows *his* teeth again. "You're honestly worried that I'll make sense to you. *Good*. Let's go --" 

And Bruce presses two fingers to Lex's mouth. "Lex. I'm worried that I won't be able to reach you." 

Lex licks Bruce's fingers -- and shivers. "You *reach* me just fine, darling. Let's *go*." 

Bruce frowns and nods, moving his fingers -- 

And Lex leads them to an entirely different elevator. Bruce's spatial reasoning puts them in the center of the horizontal limb of the L, and thus -- considering the plans he'd studied -- in the 'blank' space between offices which the vast majority of LexCorp employees have almost certainly never noticed. 

The elevator itself is rather small and grim compared to the others -- 

Lead. 

A lead *elevator*? "Lex." 

"Yes, darling?" 

"What on earth do you *do* in this elevator?" 

Lex grins and crosses his arms over his chest -- and then lets himself fall back against the -- apparently quite thick -- wall in an artfully casual lean. "Plot and scheme, mostly. You'll note that it's a significantly slower ride -- though there are speed controls just behind that panel." 

"Yes, that would make sense. The tensile strength of the cables must be incredible. Or... are there more cables than usual?" 

"Of course. However, they really are just the excessive redundancies of a paranoid mind. The cables are made out of a material I *will* find a military use for -- possibly for tanks if I can lighten it enough to make it pop for those idiots in the DOD." 

Bruce smiles. "Moving into our territory, Lex...?" 

Lex grins. "Watch your back. Darling." 

"Hm." 

"Why doesn't the Fox drive a car?" 

"The ones which looked impractical enough to suit the persona... were far too impractical. For now, the bikes work well." 

"How many...?" 

"Fourteen." 

Lex laughs breathily again. "Your father lets you spend every dime you want to, doesn't he?" 

"He believes that my laboratory costs are far, far higher than they are, but -- yes. He trusts me." 

Lex narrows his eyes for a long moment -- and then he blows out a breath. He -- 

"Lex --" 

"No. Supercomputer?" 

"One. I loathe it." 

"Yes, I swear mine is an overgrown paperweight, but -- they're getting better every day." 

"So they are. We have a very large team working on miniaturization." 

"As do we. Smelly little freaks to a man." 

Bruce blinks. "I hadn't noticed any particularly offensive odors coming from our team." 

"That's because *sane* people still agree to work for you," Lex says, and frowns somewhat pettishly. 

"You *could* do something about that, Lex." 

Lex waves a hand. Not *airily*, but also not dismissively. The gesture has the casualness... 

Of long acquaintance. Hm. "Lex..." 

"Yes, Bruce?" 

"How often do you have conversations with me when I'm not here?" 

Lex blinks -- and then laughs again. And looks at Bruce from under his lashes. "Do you have *any* idea how difficult it is to find decent conversationalists who are actually *interesting*?" 

Bruce frowns. "I've always thought that part of what makes a decent conversationalist is his or her ability to remain interesting for long stretches of time." 

Another hand-wave. "Yes, yes. But there's interesting enough to keep me from falling asleep -- or needing to become either crude, insulting, or both -- and then there's interesting enough to make me want to come back for *more*." 

"And you've seen my eyes." 

"Up close now, even. We're here," and Lex doesn't wait for the doors to be fully open before he steps out -- 

Into a world of pale -- but not white -- walls and carefully shaded fluorescents. The shading helps reduce the glare, but the space is still a great deal more grim than a part of Bruce insists anything connected with Lex should be. 

Lex leads him past two large laboratories bustling with activity -- they have to be significantly deeply underground, and beyond the scope of the 'L' -- and into something which almost appears to be a trophy room. 

A trophy room full of weapons with a distinctly green glow. Hm. "How much am I lowering my sperm count simply by being in here?" 

"Your armored jock does far more of that than *this* does, darling," and Lex gestures to take in the whole of the room. "Every last one of these is made with -- and occasionally powered by -- synthetic kryptonite." 

Bruce nods thoughtfully and moves through the room. There's a kind of pistol placed next to things which look more like miniature kryptonite bolts than bullets. 

There's a kryptonite *sword* -- 

"A moment of whimsy." 

Bruce and the Fox sigh for the loss of their saber -- 

"I see you understand. Keep going." 

"Indeed." 

There's what *appears* to be a shoulder-mounted missile launcher -- no. The barrel is too short. "Plasma cannon?" 

"Krypto-plasma cannon, to be precise. The accuracy is pathetic, however." 

Bruce nods and moves on -- nunchaku. 

Throwing knives. 

*Shuriken*. 

A *staff* -- 

"Lex..." 

"I *told* you I had presents for you. Or did you think I wouldn't notice you failing to become a part of their little club?"

"I --" 

"Tell me why. Tell me why they hate you." 

Bruce smiles wryly -- and opens the case with the throwing knives. They're warm to the touch, but not uncomfortably so.

The balance is... perfect. 

"Which cutler did you use?" 

"Strung and Company. Tell me --" 

"I have... a certain closely-kept secret about Superman --" 

"He's Clark Kent. Anyone with a mind could figure that out. What else?" 

The Fox keeps him from stiffening, and Bruce smiles wryly back over his shoulder. 

"Fine, you won't tell me, yet. They don't like you knowing their secrets? They're *that* petty?" 

Bruce tests the edge on a hair -- not especially sharp. Hm. It -- 

"They're too brittle to be sharpened to a perfect edge. *Talk*." 

"I'm not going to give you their secrets, Lex." 

"Yet." 

Bruce sets the blade back in the case and closes it again before turning around to meet Lex's eyes. The color of slate, but more truly the color of *functional* madness -- 

Hunger -- 

*Greed* -- 

Beauty. "They find my ability to discover their secrets creepy when not acutely horrifying, and tend to assume that there were failings on their parts rather than competency on my own. Most of them, anyway --" 

"Who among them do you *respect*?" 

"Wildcat --" 

"Theodore Grant." 

Bruce looks at Lex -- 

"*What*? If he expects people not to notice who he is, then he ought not to dress in skin-tight clothes and spend his free time *punching* people." 

Bruce hums a laugh. "To be fair, there's also some kicking --" 

"Not *enough*. But -- he's not as flexible as you are. Who else? *Is* there anyone?" 

"Black --"

"Canary. Dinah Lance. Come *on*, Bruce, she doesn't even wear a *mask*! By the way, *is* it the fact that she's clearly insane? Also she's half your age!"

"Slightly more than that --" 

"Oh -- fucking hell. If *that's* your type for women, then remind me to never introduce you to Constance." 

Bruce blinks. "Another Virtue?" 

Lex shows his teeth -- but he doesn't look especially happy about it. "Something... something I actually need your help with. The Fox, I mean. But you can't have her!" 

"Who is she?" 

Lex bites his lip and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't want to tell you." 

"But --" 

"She's going to be -- all right, fuck, fine. At present? Project Constance features a young girl in a terrible situation involving an international assassin --" 

"Shiva?" 

"No." 

"Wilson --" 

"*No*. He goes by Cain." 

The Fox snorts -- 

"It's his actual *name*, you ass. At least -- all right, I have to admit that I questioned it, and there's absolutely no information available about the psychotic bastard before --" 

"You said that with actual distaste --" 

"Yes, well, he's in the process of warping a *child*, Bruce!" 

Bruce crosses his own arms over his chest. "You do realize that some of your other projects have *endangered* children --" 

"And I'm not --" Lex growls and starts to pace. "I'm not *proud* of that. Just as I'm not proud of wanting to make Constance my own. I don't know her real name. Assuming she has one. Her bone structure and features suggest a blend of Korean and Ainu ancestry -- but she was still very young when the *only* pictures were taken. She -- we found her and Cain by accident. I was looking for a private contractor in the Hong Kong area --" 

"An assassin." 

"Yes, yes, *fine*! Cain's *description* -- not name -- came up, my researchers went looking in the mainland Chinese countryside and found a child being trained to be an assassin." 

How -- "How young?" 

"Barely beyond toddler age."

"*Lex*!" 

"I *know*, all right? Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with *teaching* children *anything* they wish to learn --" 

"They're too young to use that information *responsibly* --" 

"Bruce. We both know for a fucking *fact* that *you* were raised on shows where 'heroes' either shot people in the face or *stabbed them through the heart*. Let's have a little *perspective*!" 

Bruce frowns. "We'll discuss this more at a later date, Lex. Where is she?" 

"The last place she was seen was outside -- *well* outside -- Guangzhou. That was three weeks ago -- do you even *speak* Mandarin or Cantonese?" 

"Both --" 

"I *adore* you. Go get her for me." 

"I..." Bruce frowns and considers -- 

"*What*?" 

"Tell me about the men you sent --" 

"And women. I'm not some *Neanderthal* --" 

"*Lex*." 

Lex growls and stops pacing. "They're *dead*, all right? Assuming the body parts found are even remotely --" Lex stops himself and squeezes his eyes shut -- but only for a moment. "Emma Hoff had a tattoo of a machine-gun-wielding dolphin on her left shoulder blade. *Her* torso we were able to identify. I *know* you can do this. That fucking prude Bennett sent axe-wielding *Mormons* after you of all things!" 

"Interestingly enough, there are relatively few Mormons with assassin training, Lex, but, yes, I feel confident that I'm at least as well-trained in various martial arts as most people could be, especially since I would make sure I was heavily armed, and -- he works alone?" 

Lex's expression is pinched. "He may -- there's some sign that Constance works *with* him." 

Bruce recoils for that, but the Fox nods. "She can't be held responsible." 

"I *know* that. She can't be older than *six* and -- argh. How the hell are you going to *find* them?" 

"I haven't the faintest clue, Lex... but I know who will." 

"What -- you -- *no*!" 

"Cain's keeping to the countryside --" 

"Kent doesn't have special *farm* powers!" 

"But there won't be very many people in those areas who stink of cordite, or gun oil... I'm sure you see my point." 

"Fucking -- that fucking *boy* scout will just make sure Constance goes into the system!" 

"Lex... what would you do with her?" 

"*Teach* her, and -- and make sure she has everything she needs, and -- fuck, there are rumors he's not even allowing her *language*, Bruce!" 

Bruce frowns. "All the more reason to make sure she can be found as quickly as possible --" 

"I want -- I can take care of her. *Better* than anyone else, because I damned well know how to *talk* to women who've murdered people." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "And children, Lex?" 

"Of course --" And Lex's laugh is explosive and pained. "All right, I'm absolutely *terrible* with children, but when *Constance* punches me in the face for being such a hopeless freak, it will be *adorable*. I'm not going to -- I'm planning to change my -- *work* with me!" 

"Kent will find her fastest --" 

"*Bruce* --" 

"And I... I'll stand by you in terms of adopting her." 

Lex's intake of breath is sharp and clearly shocked. "You. You would." 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose -- and realizes that a part of him understands Alfred very, very well in this moment. "There are... there are promises you'd have to keep." 

"I won't -- Mercy would *start* to kill me in my sleep, then wake me up to torture me to death if I ever tried to take off her choke-chain. Hope... Hope needs solid, secure guidance in order to keep her from murdering the world for the crime of failing to make sense. Prudence is Rambo without a conscience, and you can't *blame* me for finding that *exciting*. I didn't -- I don't *believe* in trying to force people to change to *suit* me --" 

"Lex." 

"All right, fine, I *do* believe in that, but not if it *damages* them somehow. I want -- in my perfect world? *Every* individual is secure, and confident, and *actualized* -- and not because of some deep-seated damage to their sense of *realism*. I'm going to build a better world. The *best* world, because..." 

"Yes?" 

"I'm not going to -- I have to keep my Virtues *happy*, of course, but I can do that *without* all of the things you object to. In *my* perfect world, people know exactly who they are and live up to their potential -- and even beyond. In a world like that, Mercy and Hope might've grown up *sane*. Prudence... well. That bears thought --" 

"And you?" 

"Me?" Lex's smile looks painful on his face. "Bruce, in a perfect world, there'd never be a *need* for someone like me --" 

"I -- disagree --" 

Another sharp breath -- "I have more to show you." 

"All --" 

"Not right now. Just -- come back upstairs with me. Have you eaten?" 

"A few hours ago --" 

"I have -- some kind of finger food. I have no idea. I told my chef to surprise me, because sometimes I'm *exactly* as impulsive --" And Lex closes the distance between them, cups Bruce's face -- 

"Lex --" 

"You must have shaved -- that's what you were doing after your jet landed?" 

"And settling into the Spectrum --" 

"Stay with me." 

"Lex --" 

"Then kiss me. I've *missed* you --" 

Bruce kisses Lex, and gives himself permission to cup the back of his head and to *squeeze* Lex's lean hip -- 

And Lex's mouth is harder than it looks, more -- 

He kisses as aggressively as Selina -- 

*Selina* -- 

But Lex moans when Bruce slips his tongue into his mouth -- 

Lex shivers and presses *closer* -- 

And it's easy to forget that he's as tall as he is, that he's as strong -- no, as *large*. Febrility like this is usually reserved for the painfully thin, the consumptive -- 

But *this* is consuming a part of Bruce, a part he *can't* call the Fox -- 

But I'm here... 

Please, Bruce thinks, because he has to walk Lex back to a wall, has to -- 

He tastes like *raspberries* -- 

Bruce grunts when they bump the wall, when Lex shoves his hands into his hair -- and pulls back. "Lex --" 

"Your *hair* is too short --" 

"It has to be --" 

"I *know* -- I." Lex groans and bangs his head back against the wall. 

"Lex?" 

"No one is allowed to give me erections without first coming to *heel*." 

"Hm." 

"*What*." 

"Does that... work?" 

"What do *you* think?" 

Bruce laughs and leans in to bite Lex's lower lip. Gently. 

"Bruce... what do you want?" 

"Specifically?" 

"Not -- not just for this moment," Lex says, and smiles wryly. "Or maybe I mean what do you *want* for this moment." 

Oh, Lex... 

Bruce shakes his head and nuzzles Lex's mouth, and his cheek, his ear -- 

"Bruce --" 

"I want you. I want -- I don't know how long we'll be able to --" Bruce shakes his head again and kisses Lex's ear -- 

And Lex shivers again. "There has to be something." 

"Alfred wants me to manipulate you. Dinah wants me to -- I believe -- beat you to within an inch of your life --" 

"I've never done *anything* to her --" 

"The reason why she doesn't wear a mask is because her civilian life is vestigial. There will -- almost certainly -- never be 'soft targets' in her life." 

Lex pushes Bruce back and frowns. "You're saying she's wrapped up *utterly* with the other vigilantes." 

Bruce nods. 

Lex's frown grows more serious. "Don't do that to yourself." 

"I have no intention --" 

"Just -- don't you fucking *dare* --" 

"I *won't* --" 

"For -- for fucking *Harvey's* sake if no one else's --" 

"*Lex*. I *won't*." 

Lex squeezes his eyes shut -- and lets his head fall forward onto Bruce's shoulder. "I've been having an affair with you for twelve years." 

"I wish you'd invited me." 

Lex snorts and bites Bruce's shoulder through his jacket. "It was quite a lot of fun even without you there, I assure you," and Lex strokes down Bruce's chest to his groin. 

"Lex..." 

"The way you *watched* me --" 

"Wanted you --" And then Bruce sucks in a sharp breath, because Lex is cupping Bruce's scrotum through his pants. 

"So -- I do believe they're even bigger than they used to be. The metaphor is *incredibly* annoying." 

"I apologize --" 

"You're forgiven. Forgive *me*." 

"Lex --" 

"Don't -- don't say my name like that," Lex says, letting go and cupping Bruce's penis, instead -- 

Bruce twitches in his hand -- 

"Is Harvey the only man --" 

"Yes." 

"*Why* --" 

"Because," the Fox says, and leans in to lick the corner of Lex's mouth, "you didn't *invite* me, dollface." 

Lex snorts. "I don't want to play with him --" 

"Hm. I honestly didn't expect you to admit that --" 

"This soon?" And Lex smiles sharply. "How do they *not* know that you're a detective, Bruce?" 

"The semi-random buttock and crotch grabbing seems to help --" 

Lex snorts again -- 

And Bruce smiles. "I only do it to the men, of course." 

"Kent?" 

"Crotch." 

"Hmm. Grant?" 

"Nothing -- he was one of my teachers." 

Lex hums and opens Bruce's pants one-handed --

"Lex --" 

"Are you *stopping* me?" 

"Upstairs seems a bit more... comfortable." 

"No one comes in here, and Mercy has taught me to find greenish tinges on pale skin attractive. Let me," Lex says, and takes Bruce out.

Bruce sighs -- and presses his palms to the wall to either side of Lex's head. 

"Oh... mm. I can smell you, Bruce." 

"You -- have there been men?" 

"Some few -- *after* LexCorp was secure. None of them excited me -- even the one who looked just like Harvey." 

Bruce blinks -- 

And Lex grins at him. "Should I find his number for you?" 

"I --" Bruce winces -- 

"Consider that question a nasty dream," Lex says, leaning in to kiss Bruce's mouth *softly*. "I can't decide if I want you to have credibility or not." 

"You do. Then, when you co-opt me, you can make it something of a media coup." 

Lex sighs and squeezes him -- 

Bruce groans -- 

"I want -- hm. I seem to want to suck you off." 

"Be my guest, please --" 

"I want to keep talking to you. Fuck, that's *pathetic* --" 

Bruce kisses Lex hard, *deeply* -- 

Bruce coaxes Lex's tongue into his mouth -- and moans when Lex begins to take him with it, to -- 

To *shape* him -- 

Or the kiss -- 

Bruce licks Lex's tongue, sucks it and bites it carefully -- 

Lex pulls back with a gasp -- and starts to stroke him with slow and expert care.

"Lex..." 

"I still want to talk to you --" 

"If you'd shown me this side of you --" 

"Don't say it." 

"But --" 

"Not now," Lex says, and sighs as he pauses the stroke to rub firm circles around the head of Bruce's penis with his thumb. "Do you always start leaking this fast?" 

"Yes. My jocks are padded absorbently." 

Lex -- hm.

"Was that a giggle?" 

"Fuck you sideways, darling." 

"You were right." 

"About?" 

Bruce smiles and thrusts into Lex's fist. "There *was* something I hadn't tried with Harvey." 

Lex snickers. "Tell me he was all over you all the time. Lie if you must --" 

Bruce closes his eyes and licks his lips. "The first time we made love, he left bruises all over me from where he'd gripped my flesh." 

"Oh -- more." 

"He would... bite. And growl." 

"You liked that." 

"I enjoy possessive lovers." 

"Who *have* you been fucking?" And Lex speeds his stroke -- 

Bruce grunts and narrows his eyes -- 

"Tell me. Please." 

"No one in the three years since Harvey broke up with me until --" 

"You *idiot* --" 

"Dinah... and Catwoman." 

"Who?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "She broke up with me, as well. I -- " 

*Selina* -- 

And the Fox growls within him and shoves him toward Lex, forces him to *take* Lex's mouth, to lick and nibble and *thrust* -- 

Lex shivers and squeezes him viciously -- 

Bruce gasps and tries to *grip* the wall -- 

Lex licks Bruce's *teeth* -- "Prudence would make a man out of you." 

"Lex, my original puberty had quite enough horror and embarrassment to -- to last me a lifetime --" 

Lex snickers -- and drops to his knees. "You should be ashamed of this cock, you know." 

"I used to be --" 

Lex snickers *more*. His breath is -- "How *much* do you want to stick this up my ass?" 

"I do -- seem to be... inclined. Lex. Your breath --" 

Lex exhales *hot* -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"Yes, say my name *that* way. I..." Lex licks the head -- 

Bruce *grunts* -- 

"Oh, darling, you --" Lex shivers again and takes the head in -- 

In his wet *mouth* -- 

His hot and *soft* mouth -- 

"*Lex*, I -- please --" 

Lex hums and Bruce claws the wall. 

Lex *slurps* and Bruce winces with *need* -- 

And then Lex sucks, and Bruce hears himself make a desperate sound, something between a gasp and a *shout*. Bruce closes his eyes -- 

No. No -- 

Bruce opens his eyes -- 

And Lex's eyes are closed. Closed *softly*, somehow, and the years are gone, leaving the boy Bruce had wanted -- 

The boy who'd *confused* him and *fascinated* him -- 

The boy he'd turned away from for Harvey, always for Harvey -- 

Such *beauty* -- 

Bruce reaches down with a shaking hand and strokes Lex's face, wishing for softer fingers, more deftness -- 

And then he's gasping, because Lex opens his eyes to reveal *heat* and -- 

That *greed* -- 

"Lex --" 

Lex sucks *harder* -- 

"Lex, *please*." 

Lex *smiles* around him, breathes deep, and *gulps* Bruce down, making Bruce groan and *beat* on the wall -- 

"Lex, your *throat* --" 

Lex nods and sucks and mouths him, *lips* him -- 

"I want -- I *want* to take you, to -- to *have* you..." 

Lex scratches Bruce's hips -- 

Bruce's *buttocks* -- 

"I *can't* --" 

Lex presses two fingers behind Bruce's scrotum and -- 

Bruce thrusts because he has to. He does it *again* because the first caught a groan from Lex's chest -- 

Bruce cups Lex's face, *holds* him -- 

But Lex shakes his head *sharply*. Bruce groans and moves his hands, grips at the wall again -- 

"Please. I'm sorry. I need --" And then Bruce is groaning again, *shaking* because Lex is working his head on Bruce's penis faster and more violently than Bruce is *thrusting* -- 

He's being *taken* -- 

"*Lex*." 

Lex *nods* -- 

"Lex, you -- you're an egomaniac and -- and something of a mad scientist --" 

Lex snorts and coughs, pulls back -- 

"Oh -- " Bruce groans and shakes his head -- "Lex, I'm *sorry* --" 

Lex coughs more desperately and wheezes -- 

"*Please* stop laughing and fellate me --" 

Lex holds up a finger, licks his lips, and grins at Bruce. "What does the Fox have to say...?" 

"Dollface, we've got some unfinished *business*." 

Lex nods thoughtfully -- and starts stroking Bruce *ruthlessly*. 

"*Lex* --" 

"Do you know... I think that if you managed to survive Mercy's attentions for at least twenty minutes she'd *like* you." 

If we were sane, our hard-on would go away at least a little for that, Brucie.

You're almost certainly correct. 

Talk him back onto our dick. 

"Lex... I. Please?" 

Lex licks his lips and rocks on his knees. "One more time?" 

"*Lex*." 

Lex grins like the predator he is. "I *meant* the begging, but -- that works, too," and he grips Bruce's penis -- 

He lunges and *swallows* -- 

And Bruce groans helplessly and begins to rock, to thrust and *push*, to -- 

To *not* grip Lex's lovely head, to *not* be callous or -- 

The Fox is a *calmly* avid weight within him -- 

Just enjoying the ride, Brucie. Call his name again. 

"Lex -- oh, *Lex*..." 

Tell him something *true* -- 

"I -- I've sketched you countless times --" 

Lex *hums*, and it's a question, but Bruce can't do anything for a moment but moan and *shake* -- 

Another hum -- 

"Please. Please, I --" 

A *louder* hum, and Bruce's knees are weak -- 

"I still sketch -- it's -- one of my more useful hobbies --" 

Lex scrapes with his teeth -- 

Bruce growls and *thrusts* -- "Your *body*. Your... you used to be nearly *gamin* --" 

Another scrape -- 

Bruce manages to keep himself from *punching* the wall, but -- "*Lex*. I'm *close* --" 

And Lex pulls back and sucks *hard* on the head -- 

"I *want* you." 

Lex pushes his fingers back to Bruce's anus -- 

"*Hnh* -- *in* --" 

And the push -- 

The push he hasn't felt since the last time Harvey had taken him. It's the same, so much the *same* -- 

And the burn is the same, too, because Harvey hadn't been able to *wait*, at first -- 

And Bruce had begged -- 

"*Please*, Lex --" 

And Harvey had moaned and taken him harder, *apologized* and taken him *harder* --

Lex's eyes are as sharp as his thrusts, as avid, acquisitive -- 

*Hungry* -- 

Lex *bends* his fingers -- 

And Bruce's shout becomes another growl on the way out of his mouth as the pressure within him becomes explosive, desperate, perfect -- 

"*Lex*!" 

And nothing changes when Bruce begins to spill into Lex's mouth. Nothing breaks as he does, nothing *shifts* as he growls and shudders his pleasure. Nothing -- 

There is no crack of thunder and no crushing weight of *sadness*. He isn't betraying Harvey now. He isn't -- 

But is he betraying himself? 

I promise to make you think about that *after* you give me his *skin*. 

That's... rather ghoulish, don't you think? 

Weren't we going to be sane? 

Possibly, Bruce thinks, and regulates his breathing -- and doesn't fight the urge to groan when Lex pulls back. And licks his lips. 

Bruce drops to his knees and cups Lex's face, kissing him softly and appreciatively. 

Lex kisses him back and hums with amusement -- and what seems to be honest, open pleasure. 

Bruce pulls Lex closer, spreading his legs over his lap -- 

"Bruce." 

"No?" 

Lex smiles at him wryly. "The only lap-sitter in this tower is Mercy, and then only when she wants to disturb the hell out of me." 

"Hm. I didn't realize you knew *that* much about your employees." 

Lex snorts. "Just the crazy ones, darling. Knowing any less about *those* would be *actively* suicidal." 

"You have a point. Still," Bruce says, and cups Lex's hips. "I'm vastly enjoying the feel of you here. Perhaps you can think of it as straddling me like a particularly tumescent Colossus." 

Lex snorts *again* -- "Fine. But if you ever expect me to call you Daddy, we're going to have to rethink this affair." 

"Noted. Do... have you always wanted children?" 

Lex closes his eyes and smiles... 

"Is that a difficult question?" 

"No. It's only... no one but Prudence has ever asked anything like it," Lex says, opening his eyes to smile wryly again. "Prudence has offered her uterus for my use, but, as she reserves the right to raise the resulting child as she sees fit, I've thus far kept us well-stocked with birth control pills and condoms." 

"Hm. Perhaps for the best." 

"Almost certainly. But -- yes. I mean, when I was young and *desperately* unhappy, I made wild promises to myself that I would never make another child exist in this cruel, cruel world... but those went out the window by the time I was in high school." 

Bruce blinks. "That young?" 

"Oh, yes. You see, I had already begun planning my destiny -- and dynasty." 

That -- "Lex. If *that's* why you want Constance --" 

"I'm not a teenager anymore, Bruce. I don't even care if she never wants a hand in the business *or* the lab. I... something happened when I saw those few fragments of footage," and Lex frowns and looks away. 

Bruce shivers. "You saw her eyes." 

"Fuck -- yes. The world was in them, Bruce. And it was an awful, awful place." Lex sighs and stands, offering Bruce his hand. "I've been short-sighted. I've been petty. I've been jealous beyond all reason. I've been *evil*. I've been a megalomaniac -- and I will continue to be so. I've been a mad scientist -- and I have every intention of remaining functionally insane for the good of the world *and* my bottom line. I flirted with communism *and* libertarianism, but I've come to the conclusion that humanity is neither good enough nor *smart* enough to make either of those two things work. Instead, I plan on ruling the world one day as a benevolent dictator. It's not ideal, and it's bound to be *terrifically* annoying, but it's clearly the best possible solution." 

"Oh, *clearly*," the Fox says, and stands, too -- 

"Put him away, darling. I'm being *absolutely* serious." 

Bruce takes a deep breath and smiles ruefully. "I know you are." 

"Join me." 

"I have my own life --" 

"Help me raise her." 

"Lex, I just had this conversation with Alfred. I'm not even remotely ready to have responsibility for a child, and I may never be, at all." 

"The only new Waynes will be *Harvey's*? Are you *serious*?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"Augh -- Bruce! He'll raise *normal* children. *Sane* children!" 

"You... say that as though it's a bad thing. Which seems to disagree with at least some of the philosophy you've shared --" 

"*Fuck* philosophy, Bruce! I'm giving you *truth*. And -- all right, yes, it's egomania, as well, but there's nothing *wrong* with egomania if it's honest --" 

"As you say. What exactly is the problem with Harvey raising sane children?" 

Lex crosses his arms over his chest and frowns somewhat pettishly. "Nothing." 

"Then --" 

"*Your* children would be better. And interesting enough to be confidants to Constance." 

Bruce -- stops his eyes from crossing. The Fox can do no such thing. "Lex... are you matchmaking our hypothetical children?" 

"There is *nothing* hypothetical about Constance!" 

Bruce holds up his hands and pushes gently. "Let's go upstairs and discuss this away from the weaponry, please." 

"*You're* still armed." 

"And I always *will* be, Lex. There is absolutely nothing quite like spending the better part of a decade crafting oneself into a human weapon to instill in one vast amounts of paranoia. Please." 

Lex frowns again and turns away -- 

"Did your fantasies behave differently?"

"I think -- I think you're actually *more* agreeable." 

"I'm... sorry?" 

Lex snorts and smiles at him *darkly*. "When I rule the world? So-called superheroes will *register* or be outlawed."

"Lex." 

"'Lex?' That's *it*?" 

"Are you looking for an argument? Most metahumans -- and aliens -- will go underground so as to live their lives as they see fit. They are, on the whole, a pathologically individualistic people. The various extralegal tasks they perform will get done shoddily, if at all, because they'll no longer be able to depend on the back-up of the traditional police forces. There *will* be incidents where certain police officers will use force -- including lethal force -- due to incomplete or absent information about how to confront the vigilantes in question. 

"The vigilantes are, by definition, exceedingly violent people. I've never thrown a knife at a police officer, but I *have* given nasty concussions to several of the ones who shot at me in the first two years of my mission --" 

"Your *what* --" 

"A moment, Lex." 

Lex growls -- "Fine." 

Bruce nods. "The other vigilantes will, for the most part, not be as cautious as I have been. Full-scale civil war will break out -- at first in isolated hot-spots, but then on a larger scale. The vigilantes have, for the most part, banded together into a -- growing -- nation of their own. They have *bonded* as friends, lovers, and surrogate family. It would only take the death -- or serious wounding -- of one popular vigilante to create a martyr. This scenario does not even mention the question of Themyscira, which, by all even remotely reliable accounts, is peopled with women who have trained for war -- with powerful, mystically-enhanced weapons -- for thousands of years." 

"And you *believe* that?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Dinah has been there." 

"I --" Lex shakes his head and strides toward the exit. "Upstairs." 

"As you say --" 

"What are *you* doing about this?" 

"Learning their weaknesses... and all of yours." 

Lex narrows his eyes at Bruce. "Where do you stand, Bruce." 

"With peace, and justice --" 

"'And the American way'?" 

Bruce hums. "I consider myself a citizen of the world, Lex. I just want things to... proceed as smoothly as possible."

Lex bites his thumbnail -- 

Lex stares at his hand -- 

Lex growls and walks on. The elevator opens immediately and Lex *yanks* him inside -- 

"Yes, Lex?" 

"*Join* me. Their numbers are still small! Their powers are *containable* --" 

"We have not seen the limit of what Kent can do." 

Lex frowns. "What? I've had the creature on his *knees*." 

"So have I. But I've learned to trust my instincts, Lex. Kent may not be aware that he's been... hmm... 'playing possum,' but he has been. We don't want him to become inspired to stretch the limits of his potential. At least -- not with him as an enemy." 

Lex looks -- ill. "They're too strong, Bruce." 

"I don't disagree with you." 

"Do *you* have a solution? Something you thought up between split-kicks?" 

The Fox grins. "I'm usually only thinking of the family *jewels* when I do that --" 

"You know what, Fox? You're not allowed to talk about your balls until you're talking about breeding for the good of the world." 

Bruce coughs. "Noted. But, in response to your question, the closest thing to a solution I've come up with is a certain degree of transparency." 

"That's what *I* want --" 

"You can't have that much transparency. It just doesn't work with the vigilante mindset being what it is --" 

Lex bangs his head back against the elevator. "Yes, yes, I *know*. There are any number of metahumans who don't do *anything* with their powers but try to lead rich, productive lives. It's only the hideously crazy and *violent* ones who dress up like drag queens and -- you're about to tell me the peaceful ones would rise, too." 

"Of course. You know all of this, Lex --" 

"I name my women after qualities I admire and aspire to achieve, Bruce. *Hope* happens to be one of them --" 

"I've wondered." 

"Yes?" 

"Is... there a reason you gave that name to the most frightening woman on the *planet*?" 

"She's really just misunder-- all right, no. It's because I have a *sick* sense of humor and ought to be flogged," Lex says, and pinches the bridge of his nose again. 

"Lex --" 

"It's not safe, Bruce." 

"Nothing is safe. Not truly." 

"There *ought* to be -- and you *wonder* why I want to rule the world." 

"It's not that I ever thought the desire *didn't* suit you." 

"I needed -- power. As quickly as possible. I needed to do *something* about all of the incredibly *fucked*-up things Lionel was doing. I needed to bring all the execu-lizards gunning for me *down*. And then, just as I was getting ready to set the world to rights --" 

"Superman." 

"Fucking -- *Kent*. Do you *realize* how many Republicans that creature has indirectly put in office?" 

"He does have a certain... bootstrapping _je ne sais quoi_." 

"With all of his *individual responsibility* and his *aw, shucks* and his *kittens* in motherfucking *trees* and his appearances with *Boy Scouts* and this and that and -- *argh*! He's walking, talking, *flying* propaganda --" 

"I really don't think he did that on purpose. He's... hm. Rather *too* liberal for my tastes in some respects." 

Lex eyes him narrowly. "What are you saying?" 

"That we're here," Bruce says, and gestures for Lex to take the lead. 

"What are you *saying* -- wait," Lex says, walking out and pushing the intercom button beside the elevator -- 

"Yes, Lex?" There's a certain hint of Eastern Europe in the voice of the woman who answers -- 

"Eva, is the tray --" 

"It is in your bedroom, Lex, and you must make that big, strapping man eat!" 

Lex smiles. "I will *absolutely* do just that --" 

"You will breed him with Hope and make many strong babies for Eva?" 

Bruce stares at Lex. 

Lex stares at the intercom. 

"*Well*?" 

"You know, that's an *excellent* thought, Eva. I'll sound him out about it as we eat." 

"Such a good boy. Goodbye!" 

Lex closes the channel, brings his hand to his chin, and pulls on an exaggeratedly thoughtful face. 

"Lex, any child raised by Hope and myself would be an affront against everything sane." 

"But he or she would be beautiful, brilliant, and *exciting*, and --" 

"Lex. Also... who *were* you planning to make a child with?" 

"I thought about building a gender-switching machine." 

"A -- what?" 

"Think of the good it would do for the *world*, Bruce --" 

"*Which* male did you want to use it on?" 

Lex grins at him. "There is absolutely *nothing* like making love with a woman who could and would break you into your component parts for fun." 

"Hm. It would be a way to give Father a grandchild." 

"Not Mother? How *is* she, by the way?" 

"Effervescent, wise, and beautiful -- as ever." 

Lex looks at him with a somewhat pained expression. 

"You did ask." 

Lex shudders delicately. "Food now." 

"As you say," Bruce says, and allows Lex to lead him to his bedroom -- which turns out to be a large and exquisitely (if modernly) decorated box in the *center* of the L's spine. There are no windows -- hm. "Lead-lined walls?" 

"I have no intention of giving the alien a *thrill*, darling," and Lex immediately strips down to a pair of boxer briefs which are nearly the same color as Selina's uniform. She -- 

She wouldn't be able to stand Lex, Brucie. 

Yes, I... I believe you're right. I'm not sure which of them that speaks *against*, however. 

The Fox feels wry within him, sharp with unvoiced commentary -- 

Thank you. 

You're welcome. And the Fox draws back -- 

And Lex is lying back on one elbow on the bed and staring at him. He's chewing what appears to be a piece of table cheese, his eyebrows are raised in question, and his underwear cups and almost seems to *present* his erection -- 

"Now *that* is a much better look on your face. But tell me what was upsetting you before." 

"Catwoman." 

"Who *is* --" 

"A thief of high-end jewelry and antiquities. I... was far too fascinated by her to turn her in once I caught her." 

"But she still dumped you." Lex cocks his head to the side. "That *strongly* suggests that she got to know you well enough to know that you *wouldn't* just turn on her... which in turn suggests that she knew more of you than just the Fox... which in turn suggests that she was the one you had a date with yesterday." 

Bruce closes his eyes and smiles ruefully -- 

"You couldn't possibly have expected me to *stop* thinking." 

"No, Lex. I assure you that I am not -- quite -- that foolish," Bruce says, and begins to strip himself -- 

"Wait, please," Lex says -- 

And when Bruce opens his eyes, there's a skylight opening above him. "Remarkable work. The seams were practically invisible." 

"Eva is a woman of many talents." 

"*Is* she --" 

"She stopped murdering people in the late seventies. I *think*." 

Bruce pauses with his fingers on the buttons of his shirt. "Lex." 

"Ex-Spetsnaz. She's practically a *dissident*, darling." 

"Do you think we can discuss the topic of how your heterosexuality seems to... work?" 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "You have a feline-themed criminal and a teenaged vigilante who runs around in a corset despite not having anything resembling super-strength or increased healing powers. Are you *sure* you want to judge me?" 

The Fox smiles. "Who said anything about judging, dollface...? Some of us just want *advice*." 

Lex snorts. "*Weak* save. What is it you know about Kent that I don't?" 

"Something that will remain my secret -- until such time as I feel comfortable with my own conclusions about the matter." 

"But it's something that suggests a greater degree of *liberalism* --" 

"Lex." 

"*Is* he queer?" 

"He seems to be ravenously bisexual." 

"'Ravenously.' You -- why the *hell* doesn't he come out?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow and puts his shirt over the back of the chair before sitting down to open his shoes -- 

"Yes, fine, but *he's* at the pinnacle of his so-called career, and it's not like -- hell, no, there *are* countries who would rather try to shoot down the Fabulous Flying Fairy then allow such a paragon to save their people." 

"The Fox has difficulties with that sort of thing in one of the largest cities on the east coast," and Bruce removes his socks -- 

"How many broken toes have you *had*?" 

"I broke the same two four times each, and three of the others once. For about three months, it seemed reasonable to have boots which were more exciting than practical --"

"Hence the boot design coming out less than a year after you started out. Do you think the criminals really *noticed* that you were wearing unfashionable footwear for a while?" 

Bruce stands up and strips out of his pants -- and tosses his sheathed knife on the bed. "Difficult to say. My 'allies' on the force certainly did." 

Lex slips the knife from the sheath and holds it expertly, turning it this way and that -- "Yes, Mercy would definitely like you," he says, sheathing it again and setting it beside the tray. "'Allies,' you said." 

"Yes." 

"Is *that* why you, Harvey, and James Gordon ripped through the police force?" 

Bruce smiles and sets his pants over the chair with his shirt. "I must admit to a trifle more verve in my search for corruption when the officers in questions were free with certain slurs," and he moves to the bed -- 

"Wait. I." 

"Yes, Lex?" 

Lex punches a button on the bedframe -- and the skylight opens even more widely. It's now... more than large enough for a large man. 

"Now, Lex?" 

"Please. I -- it's just that I can't wait anymore," Lex says, and doesn't quite curl in on himself. It's all a question of the aura he presents. 

Bruce nods, and wishes he were close enough to the man to excuse a hand on his shoulder. "We all have our --" 

"Weaknesses, Bruce?" 

"Needs." 

"They're the same thing --" 

"That's one of the promises you're going to have to keep, I'm afraid --" 

"Yes, yes, children are *allowed* to have needs, *call* him --" 

"You're allowed to have needs --" 

"Harvey spoiled you." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Lex glares at him. 

Bruce raises his *other* eyebrow -- 

"Oh, would you *stop* it?" 

"Probably not --" 

"*Call* --" 

"Superman, *bubbie*, *pretty* boy --" 

"No *wonder* he hates you --" 

"I *detest* both of you," Kent says, and lowers himself through the skylight -- but not to the floor. "However, I can't help feeling that Wayne would have a *reason* for exposing this particular secret."

"We're in *love*, pretty boy, and we want *you* to officiate --" 

"*Talk*, Wayne!" 

The Fox smiles sharply -- and subsides under Bruce's push. "There's a small child in danger --" 

"There are hundreds of *thousands* --" 

"*This* one, Kent, is being trained and abused by an assassin named Cain." 

Kent narrows his eyes. "Where." 

Lex sits up against the headboard. "Three weeks ago, my agents reported a sighting outside of Guangzhou -- farm country. They were all brutally murdered before they could transmit more detail, as were all the other teams I sent. Cain appears to be sticking *to* rural areas, and Bruce believes that this is how you'll find him." 

Kent stares at him suspiciously. 

"Lex has every intention of caring for the little girl while searching for her birth parents. If they cannot be found, then he will adopt her. In the meantime, he will devote his resources to caring for the child's emotional, intellectual, and physical wounds." 

"That's not what he promised --" Kent cuts himself off with a growl. 

Lex raises an eyebrow -- 

And Bruce raises his own. "He didn't have to say it aloud to me, Kent. We've known each other for quite a long time." 

Kent looks down for a moment -- or perhaps he's gazing through the floor at LexCorp employees -- 

No, the floor would be lined with lead, as well. 

"Will you help us, Kent?" 

Kent grits his *teeth* -- 

And Lex growls. "Can't you control your bad habits, alien? It sounds like you're crushing *tanks* in your mouth."

"Amazingly enough, Luthor, your comfort isn't a concern of mine," and Kent turns to *him*. "Why are you standing with him?" 

"He's given me reason to trust him. Unlike you." 

"Of *course* he has! He wants you to be his *ally*, Wayne!" 

"He knows precisely what he will have to do in order to get what he wants -- and he has will like no other." The Fox grins somewhat loopily. "He'd probably make a *killer* of a Green Lantern --" 

Lex throws a pillow at him -- 

Bruce catches it and lets the Fox smirk with his mouth. "All right, I'm not picky, dollface -- you can be a *Purple* Lantern."

Lex snorts -- 

And Bruce turns back to Kent. "It may not work out in the slightest, but you know precisely how good I am at... observing people --" 

"You're *not* invited to work in my city, Wayne --" 

"*Your* city, alien? You --" 

Bruce holds up a hand to Lex -- 

"One blowjob does *not* make you --" 

"Lex. Please," Bruce says, and turns to give Lex his features, his earnestness, his -- hope. 

And Lex tilts his chin up for a breath he doesn't *allow* to become sharp -- and then nods. 

"Words cannot express how *thrilled* I am that the two of you can work out your lovers' quarrels so well," Kent says, and raises his eyebrow in what can only be termed a *dare* -- 

The Fox would *love* to say something about Lois Lane -- 

But Bruce shakes his head. "Kent. There is an opportunity here, and we would be fools to waste it." 

"I've already begun searching for the child, Wayne; you needn't fear about that --" 

"You --" Bruce cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. "I see. We don't know her name, but she appears to be of Korean and Ainu ancestry. Lex, please describe Cain." 

"Approximately your own height, alien, and somewhat more lean than Bruce. Greying brown hair -- still more brown than grey. More than skilled enough to take out... exceedingly careful, well-armed, and well-trained individuals working in groups."

Kent opens his mouth -- 

But Bruce holds up a hand again. "You'll take me with you as soon as you locate him." 

"I'll do no such --" 

"Kent. Every assassin with a *mind* in this world has a supply of kryptonite and the will to use it, and you have no idea how many or what sort of traps will be laid out." 

"Nor do *you*." 

Bruce smiles. "You're absolutely correct. However, of the two of us, *I'm* the one with more experience with assassins." 

Another narrow-eyed glare -- but it becomes an expression of confusion and something like *hurt*. 

"Kent? What --" 

But he's gone -- and there's a small, light-colored ear bud in Bruce's hand. JLA communicator. It -- 

Bruce slips it in -- 

"Wear this until I take it back, Fox. I'll tell you when I've found possibles." 

"Superman --" 

"Superman out." 

Bruce frowns and considers removing the thing to study it -- but Kent *would* take that as an excuse not to keep him in the loop. Bruce leaves it in and crosses to the bed once more -- 

"What was *that* about? Or can't I talk yet?" 

Bruce lies down, turns on his side, and kisses Lex's shoulder. "Kent has another mystery for me to solve." 

"Hmm. How do you feel about word problems?" 

"They tend to be terrible literature. I always found them more distracting than educational," and Bruce kisses his way to Lex's left pectoral muscle -- 

"Literature is one of the more useless -- wait." 

"Are you sure." 

"Exceedingly. Eva doesn't like it when people don't eat her food," Lex says, and pushes Bruce back -- 

To make a space for a heavily-laden tray. There are artichoke hearts, an assortment of cheeses, three sorts of olives, two sorts of peppers, a collection of deli meats -- some of which aren't immediately identifiable -- two large baskets of breads, softened butter, and a bottle of exquisite-looking olive oil. 

"Try the wild boar ham," Lex says, and taps on the artful pile of exceedingly dark meat. "One of Eva's lovers hunted it himself on vacation." 

Bruce hums. "Words cannot express my relief that she keeps herself... occupied." 

Lex grins. "You have *your* frightening servant, I have *mine*." 

"There's nothing *frightening* about Alfred --" 

Lex looks at him. 

"I believe I would have noticed if *he* had assassin training, Lex." 

"*I* noticed fascinating blanks in his government service record --" 

"Those are his stories to tell," Bruce says, allowing a trace of loftiness into his voice -- 

And Lex snorts. "Fine. *Be* that way. But if he *didn't* have a hand in your training? I *let* you fuck me." 

Bruce pauses with a bite of fontina between his fingers. "I think we should *both* be terribly disappointed right now, Lex." 

"Ooh, *someone* sounds *confident*," Lex says, and strokes Bruce's shin with his -- unbroken -- toes. 

Bruce smiles. "Let's just say that it's an act I've given myself a significant amount of practice in." 

Lex folds a piece of what appears to capicola, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. His expression has a sort of *private* avidity, and -- 

"I really, really wish you'd invited me to this affair." 

"You said that already." 

"I'm not sure it's possible for me to say it enough, Lex. I --" 

"I wasn't ready for you." 

"Is there anything you're *truly* unprepared for?" 

Lex smiles wryly. "My ego adores you right now, darling -- and it's notoriously monomaniacal, so you should be flattered -- but..." Lex shakes his head. "I would've called you *soon*, but your timing is the best." 

Bruce hums. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." 

"Please do." 

Bruce inclines his head -- 

"I'm surprised at Harvey." 

"Yes?" 

"When I imagined your sex life with him -- which, let's be honest, was *fairly* often -- I couldn't quite imagine him allowing you that degree of dominance." 

("Oh, God, Bruce, *fuck* --" 

"Harv --" 

"Do me, just fucking -- you don't know how much I *want* it --" 

"Please *tell* me --" 

"I will, I will, but get *in* me --") 

"Hm. No?" 

Lex searches his eyes. "A memory?" 

"A rather pleasant one. Why don't you think --" 

"He was *invested* in being a man's man, Bruce -- he *had* to be just to survive that primitive little hell-hole we call our alma mater." 

Bruce takes a bite of the table cheese and does his own thoughtful chewing. Harvey had always been... heteronormatively *correct* in public. Only once had he stepped away from his own -- ironclad -- set of rules, and *that* had ended with Lex knowing their secret. 

Bruce hadn't needed Harvey to tell him that, if it had been anyone other than Lex, their secret would've almost certainly belonged to the entire school. 

Even if it had been one of the boys who called Harvey 'friend.' 

Perhaps especially if it had been one of them, considering the jokes they tended to tell and the 'pranks' they tended to play on the effeminate or simply 'nerdy.' To that end... "Yes, Lex, I can see what you're saying, but..." Bruce shakes his head. "Harvey truly is a different sort of man when he's alone with someone he cares for deeply." 

"Oh, I know *that*, but -- hm. No, you're right -- of course you're right. He shocked everyone when he *proposed* to Gilda." 

Bruce smiles wryly. "Not me." 

"He broke up with you *for* her." 

"He proposed to her -- the first, unsuccessful time -- not long after he ended things between us," Bruce says, and selects what appears to be a spiced Sicilian olive. "Before then... before then, I'd had hopes that we would share her. That the *three* of us could find some way to be together." 

Lex blinks. "Is she polyamorous?" 

"No. But it never occurred to me to ask that question, as opposed to... well, it would also be fair to say that there were *several* questions I never *allowed* myself to ask." 

Lex winces -- and then shakes his head curtly. "You should know, Bruce -- I'm going to be incredibly evil when you break up with me." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Why do you think I will?" 

Lex raises his *own* eyebrow -- 

"You know, when you do that with eyeliner on --" 

"My eyes look incredible. Yes, I *do* know. The *mountains* of pussy I received in my dissolute years --" 

"Which were about as dissolute as my *own* teenaged years --" 

"*Details*. I..." Lex sighs and reclines once more. "I don't trust myself to improve... dramatically." 

"Your myriad enemies will, of course, work to make you backslide --" 

"Whether or not they understand that it would *be* backsliding, yes," Lex says, sitting up again -- but only for long enough to grab one of the bottles of wine, pop the cork one-handed, and take a long drink. "Oh -- why the fuck do I never remember how much I *hate* wine?" 

"Hope springs eternal?" 

"It's like I don't *trust* myself about it being pansified swill. Here," Lex says, and hands the bottle over before sitting up *again*, standing, and walking to what's presumably a bathroom. 

The sound of running water confirms it, and Lex returns with a large tumbler full of water. 

"Better?"

"*Immensely*," and Lex takes a drink before setting the tumbler down on the night table and reclining once more. "I *don't* trust myself. At *all*. And I'm right not to." 

"Lex --" 

"The enemy question alone, Bruce. Some of them *won't* stop gunning for me until such time as *I* -- or one of my 'independent contractors' -- stop them." 

"There are ways to do that which *don't* involve giving Prudence access to explosives." 

"Yes, but those ways are no *fun*, Bruce -- I -- all right. All right. I will *grant* you that my resources would allow me greater luck in terms of getting my various enemies locked away for long periods of time -- certainly, I did everything I *could* to *reach* a point where I would have near-infinite resources and connections -- but there's the question of... emotion." 

"Do go on." 

"Hm. It's -- let's say Mercy gets shot in her lovely, perfect breast while trying to protect me." 

Bruce frowns. "Yes?" 

"Or... or someone parts Hope's hair in precisely the wrong way." 

"I'm listening." 

"Or -- removes Prudence's ability to provide the world with truly horrifying children." 

"Lex. You're saying you love --" 

"Care. I *care* about them. And there's *nothing* wrong with that." 

"I --" 

"Bruce, so help me --" 

"There's nothing wrong with that," Bruce says, quickly. 

Lex glares at him. 

Bruce raises his hand and pushes at the air. "You... care about them. I'm sure... I'm sure they appreciate --" 

"Of *course* they don't appreciate that! They're *psychopaths*! Well, except for Hope. She... well, she's Hope, and she's wonderful, and she's made *great* strides in the past few years, but she's a sociopath and will remain so until the day she dies. Hopefully of extreme old age." And Lex sits up again and rests his head back against the headboard. "I'm doing this, in part, for them. For their *futures*." 

"Lex, that's extremely admirable --" 

"Mercy is still in rehab from how badly Prudence broke her ankle during her interview --" Lex growls and bangs his head back against the headboard. "They're my family. Even though I've only just met Prudence. There's nothing admirable about wanting to protect one's family. It's -- human nature," Lex says, and frowns at nothing -- or perhaps at the workings of his own mind. 

"They make you happy. They protect you. They provide you with companionship --" 

"I *know* there's nothing wrong with how I feel already --" 

"Do you?" 

"I *said* --" 

"Lex." 

Lex growls and eats several of the oil-cured olives with an expression of black rage. 

Bruce leaves him to it and grazes. And waits. 

And becomes somewhat enamored with the strange, crumbly-yet-spreadable cheese -- 

"Soy 'feta'. *Disgustingly* healthy." 

"Thank you --" 

"If you eat all of it, I'll -- do something awful. Possibly to a puppy. A puppy who belongs to a *baby*." 

"As you say." 

"I was always going to clean up my act around this time, anyway." 

"Yes?" 

"Taking over the world, at this point, still requires a certain degree of electoral *pull*. The masses have *short* memories, but they do still *have* memories." 

"That does make sense." 

Lex frowns more deeply again. "I had to -- there's so much I had to do." 

"Truly?"

Lex's smile is dark and more than a little ugly -- 

"That's how you look when you're thinking about your father." 

"Oh, yes. He... hmm. Laid down the narrative, as it were. I didn't set out to use his style, but it was effective for... many things." Lex frowns again. "I don't like speaking about this." 

"You don't have to." 

Lex scowls at him. "You people are supposed to *like* criminal confessions. It saves those weak-sister cops and DAs of yours *work*." 

"Lex." 

"*Fine*. *Your* cops and DAs are *strong* and *manly* and *never break their own fucking laws to work with you*." 

"Hm." 

"*What*?" 

Bruce swallows a bite of what seems to be a sourdough baguette. "You don't have to talk about it." 

"Why *not*?" 

"You've never been my enemy." 

Lex jerks his head back -- "Wait." 

"Yes?" 

"What does the *Fox* have to say about that?" 

The Fox uses his most -- vulpine -- grin. "Since you asked so nicely, dollface, I'll tell you; if you *do* make us turn against you, I will *never* let Bruce come here again." 

Lex's jaw drops. 

Hell. 

He did *ask*, Brucie. 

You didn't have to -- 

Be honest? 

Bruce rises, wincing and shaking his head. "I'm sorry about that --" 

"You're crazy." 

"You hadn't noticed? No, I'm sorry --" 

"You're actually *crazy*." 

"It's under control --" 

"You're -- can I name you Honor?" 

Bruce feels a scowl form on his face -- "No, Lex." 

"Maybe... maybe Justice. With -- those scales tend to *suggest* a certain binary aesthetic --" 

"Lex --" 

"Bruce. How long?" 

Bruce sits up and turns away -- 

And listens to Lex moving the tray back to the table -- 

And *feels* Lex wrapping himself around Bruce from the back. It -- "Lex..." 

"You *have* to know I don't judge you." 

"It was -- it was just a slip --" 

"And a very *telling* one. Because you *do* know I won't judge you, or -- or force you into some sort of institution so they can squeeze you out again as a model of mainstream, cookie-cutter 'sanity' --" 

"*Lex* --" 

"It's all *right*, Bruce. You -- please tell me how long?" And there's avidity and *greed* in Lex's voice again -- but the hunger is even stronger. The honest *need* --

And who has needed him like this? 

Who -- 

No one had ever truly wanted *both* of them until Dinah, and even she hadn't demanded to know the *history*. Why should she care? 

She might care. We don't know that she doesn't, Brucie. 

No, of course, but -- 

He cares. He's hungry. He *wants* -- the shape of me, maybe? 

He didn't think you were real. Now he knows -- 

"Bruce... please." 

Go ahead, Brucie. See what happens. 

That... didn't sound like *either* a dare or a threat. 

Because it wasn't. I'm... curious. 

And the Fox is rueful within him, younger and more -- more obviously *virile* in image... 

His hair is *black* -- 

And Bruce realizes that he's staring at the man at last. That he can *see* -- 

And I can see you. Tell him. 

"Bruce, please --" 

"I... I started building the Fox as a child. I no longer remember a time when I wasn't imagining myself as a hero. Not just any hero, either. A better, smarter, more interesting, and more *charming* hero than... than anyone I could ever be." 

"There's nothing *wrong* with you, damn it --" 

"Lex." 

"All right, I'm listening. I'm also *hugging* you --" 

"Did you imagine doing that often?" 

"After I learned about Harvey dumping you? Several times. Every time, I wound up laughing somewhat hysterically. Tell me this is working well." 

"It is --" 

"Fine. Keep *talking*." 

Bruce laughs helplessly. "I named the Fox when Father told me what 'Zorro' meant in Spanish. I was eight." 

"Fuck -- okay, more." 

"When I met Harvey, the Fox gained... a sexuality. Or rather, he took over most of *mine* and reshaped it. And made it much, much more exciting. Then he gave it back and we... reveled. And *hungered*. He also gained a certain... roughness to his vocabulary. He was still *me*, though. Just -- better." 

"All right. But you hadn't started training?" 

"Not seriously. Harvey asked me to ask our parents about letting us join a gymnasium for the summer months -- he was still quite shy around them then -- and, instead, Father *built* a gymnasium for us in what had been the east attic. Whenever I was moved to be lazy, the Fox *and* Harvey drove me on. They were... it started to be like having more than one brother, with the second brother absent much of the time and silent *most* of the time." 

"My -- God. And then you left the country. Was it the Fox?" 

Bruce smiles and closes his eyes. "It was Harvey. Harvey and his *passion*. Harvey and his *studies* of all the corruption in Gotham. We were seventeen and out of Gotham much of the *year*, but Alfred bundled the week's newspapers into packages for Harvey and sent them every Monday. And... all I could think was that I couldn't let Harvey fight alone." 

Lex squeezes him. "The Fox didn't say *anything*?" 

"Recently I've wondered if this is something... if it's something I always would have done, in some way. Some... shape." 

Yeah, but you wouldn't have done it with any kind of *style*, Brucie. 

Bruce laughs. "It seems... just as plausible as anything else. Still, by the time I began to travel and study, I had already begun to design the Fox's basic uniform, and to speculate about what sorts of weapons and tools would be useful, and even come up with... aspects of the Fox's overt personality. His favorite song -- " 

"'Sing, Sing, Sing' by Benny Goodman. Excellent choice for a walking anachronism." 

"Indeed. I also gave him his favorite colors, some few of his most obnoxious pick-up lines -- always designed to be rejected --" 

"How does *that* not backfire?" 

The Fox rises and smiles. "Let's just say that I've learned where *not* to use them." 

Lex strokes his chest -- and laughs quietly. "I feel like I just walked into a threesome." 

"We never have to play at all, dollface. I'm not the jealous type." 

Lex rests his head on Bruce's shoulder. "I'm not so sure about that." 

"No...?" 

"Sooner or later, most people with dissociative identity disorder -- or some psychologically interesting relative of same -- wind up with... something of a world war in their minds. *Some* alters are only protective. Others want to be free." 

The Fox sighs and pushes free of Lex, shifting to face him with his legs in lotus. "I won't lie and tell you that I don't want more time than I tend to get." 

"But?" 

The Fox grins and breathes deep, enjoying every bit of this moment, every moment of this *freedom*. 

How could he have ever thought that they had to be one again? 

Bruce offers an image of Hope's eyes. 

Oh -- Christ. Right. Fuck this, I'm leaving. 

Bruce blinks himself back to -- 

To -- 

"Bruce...? Are -- wait, it's you, right?" 

"Yes," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I'm not at all sure..." 

"Where you went?" 

"Well... yes. For a moment... for a moment I *wasn't*." 

Lex nods thoughtfully, but doesn't shudder or flinch or -- 

"Lex... thank you." 

Lex blinks -- and then stares at him with a softness in his eyes which looks painful. "You're --" He clears his throat and takes a breath. "You're welcome. Shut up." 

"All right..." 

"I mean --" Lex pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's quite a typical -- do you have any other blanks in your memory?" 

"No." 

"None?" 

"None. This -- it's the first time that happened. It's only... it's only very recently that the Fox and I have been... conversing." 

"So he's just... there *with* you? At all times?" 

"Yes. Well -- he quiets himself at times." 

"When?" 

"Now, for one. Often when I'm with Harvey. He's hardly ever there, at all, when I'm speaking with Mother." 

"And your father?" 

"I believe the Fox would wither at the thought of him." 

Lex frowns. "That's *odd*." 

"Is it?" 

"I -- all right, no, it isn't odd. Not for you," and Lex sits on his heels with his hands flat to his thighs. "The Fox isn't a rebellion against anyone but yourself. Your parents never gave you a *reason* to rebel, and thus... the Fox has no real place in Wayne manor. Yes?" 

Bruce nods. "Though Mother --" 

"Wait. Wait, go back. *How* recently did you and the Fox split enough to begin conversing?" 

"I... I don't remember it happening as *completely* as it has before I met Catwoman --" 

"Tell me her name?" 

"Lex --" 

"Bruce, you've given me your *extremely volatile psychological damage*. Give me this, too. In return, I'll give you -- what do you want?" 

"I... a reason *why* you want her name, for a start --" 

"I'm jealous. You made me wait so you could spend time with her." 

Bruce frowns. "Lex..." 

Lex growls and waves a hand. "Don't -- just ignore that, all right? It's not like I'm ever actually going to try to get in the way of your -- or the Fox's -- affairs. I'm *allergic* to making people make choices like that --" 

"You don't do it with your Virtues?" 

"My Virtues are -- look, at first? I couldn't let Mercy fuck *anyone* else, because I was *terrified* of losing her, and because I couldn't erase the image of her riding my fucking *father* -- no, don't make that face, it was part of my plan -- don't make that face, either." 

Bruce bites his lip and -- no. He waits. He breathes -- 

"*Fine*, it was -- look, I had to know he would do it, all right? All of these... smarmy and flirty *comments* to everyone I made the mistake of bringing home. He probably would've grabbed *your* crotch and ruined the Fox's shtick *forever*." 

"Lex, I -- I never knew --" 

"No, you didn't, because -- well, he was one of the *reasons* I didn't invite you to our affair, all right?" 

Bruce reaches out -- 

"Don't *touch* me --" 

Bruce drops his hand. "All right --" 

"No -- no, not that. Please -- fuck. Not *that*. Come here." 

"Are you --" 

"Don we now our gay *apparel*, yes, I'm *sure*!"

The Fox very *badly* wants to raise Bruce's eyebrow -- 

Bruce flashes him an image of Hope -- 

The Fox flashes him an image of *himself*, wearing one of Father's suits and staring silently at Harvey's back. 

All right, that's -- I'm sorry. 

You're forgiven. He's crazy, too. 

Yes. Yes. He -- there are many -- issues. Here. 

Glad you noticed. *Now* go hug him. 

Bruce does just that, awkwardly pressing his knees to Lex's own -- 

"Oh -- fuck this," and Lex straddles Bruce's lap and kisses him -- 

Lex cups Bruce's face and bites his lip, licks his chin -- 

Lex shudders and makes a sound like an animal being *stabbed* -- and Bruce holds him close and rocks him, kisses him, strokes him -- 

"I'm not -- Bruce, I'm not --" 

"I know." 

"I'm all *right*!" 

"Yes." 

God -- fucking *damn* you, where *were* you --" 

"Becoming lonelier. And crazier." 

"Bruce, oh -- it was when he broke up with you." 

"Yes." 

"He -- he gave you --" 

"He was the brother I'd always wanted, and we had everything." 

Lex clutches him -- 

"I'm all right, Lex --" 

"He left you *alone* --" 

"No, no, not that. We speak all the time, and even touch -- don't --" 

But Lex pulls back and searches him, studies him and seems to be almost trying to *pull* Bruce out of himself -- 

But then, Lex knows what happens when that's done, so -- possibly not. "Lex... he was never callous, or dismissive, or even neglectful. He never fails to spend as much time with me as possible... and he told Gilda about the two of us." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "And she... thinks the two of you spend too much time with each other." 

"Yes. Though... she seems to try to phrase it jokingly more often than not. Lex, I don't want -- you mustn't blame Harvey for my own... difficulties." 

"He had to know --" 

"He fell in love." 

"He was in love with *you*, Bruce!" 

Bruce smiles. "Yes. And sometimes... every now and again, I believe he still is. I don't begrudge the choice he made, or the rules he made to help him keep to it." 

"Rules -- there were things you couldn't speak about anymore." 

"Yes." 

"And --" Lex sits back and nods thoughtfully. "You had to speak to someone about them." 

"I needed -- the Fox is... trying to get me to... absorb him." 

"The Fox is *suicidal*?" 

Bruce sighs. "I would say... I would say it's more a matter of the Fox not wishing us to become dangerously mad." 

"I want to punch you for that, you know." 

Bruce frowns. "Lex, you have to admit that allowing myself to have two fully-realized personalities would be deeply --" 

"No, you *ass*. I'm talking about the fact that you dress up in black silk and armor every night and go around *beating the living shit out of strangers*. You are, by any definition, *already* dangerously mad." 

"I -- hm." 

"'Hm?' Is that what you have for me, Bruce?" 

"Oh, I've *got* somethin' for you, dollface --" 

"At ease, Fox. I'm *not* going to even *bother* trying to convince Bruce to retire you, because I know that's pointless. All right?" 

The Fox licks his teeth -- and nods once. "It's not -- it's dangerous talking about Harv." 

"Because you're still madly in love with him?" 

"Me? Not so much. I mean, he's stunning, and he's a wonderful guy, and he does wonderful things for Gotham each and every *day*... but it would be more than a little... heh. Incestuous." 

Lex blinks like a damned *owl* -- 

"Hey, now, don't say one *word* about Mom, now --" 

"You -- I -- I confess I'm at something of a *loss*, Fox." 

The Fox reaches to scratch at his mustache -- it's not there. 

Of *course* it's not there, he's an *idiot* -- 

You're not -- 

Come back out here. I didn't mean to drag myself up anyway. 

How often *do* you intend -- 

I don't know! I don't know, all right? Help -- 

"Fox?" 

"Not -- quite," Bruce says, and tries to... to *stretch* himself back into his body, his mind, his spirit -- 

I'm sorry, Brucie. 

You're forgiven, Bruce thinks, and tries to remember -- ah. "Lex, don't you think you, yourself --" 

"I *know* I'm crazy! Look at who I surround myself with! Sweet tranny hookers in *boots*, the woman I want to marry has threatened to cut my *balls* off if I ever stop slicing her open twice a month with hunting knives!" 

Bruce blinks. "I... hm." 

"Stop *hming* at me!" 

Bruce licks his lips. "When did you realize that you wanted to marry Mercy?" 

Lex covers his mouth and -- mumbles. 

"Lex?" 

Lex glares at him. "Two. Weeks. After. Meeting. *Her*." 

"And she doesn't --" 

"She would -- and I'm quoting -- rather live and die as the primary instrument of my *will* than ever have to put up with the ridiculous, boring, and *pathetic* -- still quoting -- issues involved in being my wife. She said this to me while I was half asleep after having provided the fucking of a *lifetime*." 

"Are you sure --" 

"She had the tip of a knife *much* like the one you keep strapped to your back pointed directly at my half-closed left eye. I think it's fair to say that my memories of the night are *crystalline*." 

"Perhaps even adamantine?" 

"As you *say*," Lex says, with an ironic flourish. And sighs. "I'm not going to get married, Bruce. I'm never going to have a child of my own. Don't get me wrong -- Mercy said she *would* give birth for me -- but it would make her desperately unhappy. She knows that, I know that, *Hope* knows that. And, well, *Hope* would give me a child, too, but Hope is entirely *asexual*." 

"That... is... unfortunate?" 

Lex snorts. "You, my darling, are *far* too queer for your own good. She's one of the most beautiful women in the *country*." 

"Aesthetically -- I -- no, Lex. I've recoiled from *photographs* of her. Still... there are non-sexual methods of conceiving?" 

Lex nods. "It's true. And I'm not... I'm *not* some Neanderthal --" 

"You'd mentioned --" 

"Yes, well, it bears *repeating*," Lex snaps -- and then sighs. "I couldn't marry her. Nor could I... somewhere, within her, there are the remnants of a soul which was ripped to shreds, set afire, and then *crushed* down to nothing over the course of a childhood filled with honest-to-Christmas torture. Still, there are things which still make her feel. There are... moments when there's life behind those eyes. I'm desperately afraid that having a child would awaken more of her than she could competently control, and I'm even more afraid that it wouldn't. I would want to give a child *two* parents, Bruce. Or -- at *least* two parents. I should show you Constance. You'd see -- well, you'll meet her, of course, and then -- fuck, why are we even *talking* about this?" 

Bruce smiles and cups Lex's face. "It's definitely easier than talking about *my* issues."

Lex frowns. "I don't -- I'm not in love with you." 

"All right." 

"I'm in love with an entirely *different* madman who *looks* like you." 

"Yes?" 

"I think so. I'm almost -- almost positive why are you even *more* interesting than I thought you were?" 

Bruce blinks and licks his lips. "I'm... sorry?" 

"Wait, what was that about your mother?" 

"I think..." Bruce drops his hands to his sides. "I think, sometimes, that she gave birth to me in order to have a confidant she could shape from the ground up." 

Lex's lower jaw... drops and then shifts to the side. 

"Lex --" 

"I can see it and I'm *terrified*. You can't marry your mother." 

"I was very disappointed when I realized that. At age *four*, Lex." 

"Yes, but you didn't get *over* it!" 

"Yes, I *did*." 

"*Liar*!" 

"Lex, I don't want to marry my mother. I want to spend more time with her, and hold her, and occasionally lift her into my arms and -- and spin her around. She has a marvelous *giggle* -- all right, Lex, you have absolutely no right to look at *me* with *horror* on your face." 

"I think you'll find, Eddie, that I do." 

"Eddie -- oh. Lex, that's terrible." 

Lex gives him something of a *look* -- 

Lex bites his lip -- 

Lex falls back onto the bed and -- cackles. 

And whoops. 

And cackles... significantly more. 

Bruce sighs. "All *right*, Lex --" 

Lex holds up a finger and *giggles* -- 

"You know, it's only the fact that you were clearly in need of some sort of catharsis which is allowing me to remain sanguine." 

Lex coughs for a long moment, takes a deep breath, and *beckons* Bruce. 

"And if I don't wish to come when you call?" 

"Oh, don't be *offended*, darling. Your mother is a perfectly lovely woman who flirts with the only son she gave birth to in entirely innocent ways --" 

"Lex --" 

"Darling." And Lex sits up on his elbows and crosses his legs at the ankle. "Darling... I do, in fact, love you." 

"I -- oh." 

"I have for -- far too fucking long. It's just that I've loved *afterimages* of you, and flashes of -- might-have-beens, I suppose. You're an incredible person. You are..." Lex licks his lips and narrows his eyes. "You are kind, loving, and unfailingly generous. You are *warm*. You are *brilliant and imaginative*. You're *creative*. You -- for the love of *everything* sane -- fight for *justice*. And you don't even do it in *boring* ways. In fact, you couldn't be dull if you were comatose for a week and also impotent." 

"I... would think that those two things..." 

"Really, really not. Ask your father. He's *into* all of that obscure medical trauma, isn't he?" 

"Yes, but --" 

"I love you. You're insane. The women I love all spend significant periods of time having eyes like my father, who was an incongruously warm-blooded reptile." 

"Oh... dear." 

"I don't judge you. Let's fuck." 

"Lex --" 

"Please? Pretty please with your magnificently shameless cock pressed somewhere interesting?" 

Bruce grunts and narrows his eyes. 

Lex parts his lips -- 

"Take your boxer briefs off, Lex. Please." 

Lex licks the *edges* of his teeth -- and does it. He is as bare as he was in high school, of course, but somewhat longer. 

Thicker. 

Bruce begins to crawl close -- 

"Naked, darling." 

Bruce growls and strips -- 

"You are -- you're *actually* a bear." 

Bruce licks the inside of Lex's right knee. "I rarely ever defecate in wooded areas." 

Lex snorts and cups the back of his head. "You know what I mean. Or do you?" 

"Hmm." Bruce bites Lex's inner thigh. Lightly. "We're speaking of homosexual or bisexual men who tend to be hirsute?" 

"We *are*. And -- perhaps somewhat *manly*, if not dominant." 

"Lex, you should know," Bruce says, and sucks a kiss to the place on Lex's thigh where his scrotum had been resting before Bruce lifted it -- 

"Mm. Yes?" 

"I love your skin." 

"I knew that when we were *teenagers*, darling," and Lex scratches Bruce's scalp. "You always held my hand a little too long for greeting and leaving handshakes." 

"Hmm. Noted," and Bruce opens his mouth -- 

"What were you going to say?" 

Oh -- yes. "I'm not especially 'manly.'" And Bruce strokes Lex's thigh, and his abdomen, and his pectoral -- "Do you bathe in *milk*?" 

"Bruce. We do *not* live in the Dark Ages." 

"I know that --" 

"Haven't you ever tried the LexCorp moisturizers?" 

Bruce kisses the head of Lex's penis, breathes there -- 

"Bruce..." 

"No. No, I haven't. They all have sunblock in them, and, frankly, I need as much vitamin D as I can get." 

Lex snickers -- and grips Bruce's hair. "Kiss me again -- oh." 

Bruce hums -- 

Lex takes a somewhat *shaky* breath -- 

Bruce sucks *hard* -- and laps at the meatus with his tongue, over and over again -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

Bruce rumbles at the back of his throat -- 

"You -- damn --" 

Bruce pulls back. "Yes?" 

"Did I torture you this much?" 

"Hm --" 

"Didn't I tell you to stop that?" 

Bruce smiles and licks Lex from base to tip -- 

He kisses Lex's pubis -- 

He kisses Lex's scrotum, and takes it in his mouth -- 

And Lex blows out a breath -- 

Lex groans -- and cuts himself off. "Bruce. You -- tell me more about not -- wait --" 

"About what?" 

"Stop making me want to *talk* to you!" 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Her name is Selina Kyle, and I'd appreciate it if you were to leave her to her own device." 

"Of course I -- you --" Lex blushes and turns away -- 

"Look at me, please -- 

"Do you love her?" 

Bruce wraps his fist around the base of Lex's penis and squeezes -- 

Lex moans and *arches* -- and looks at him. *Searches* him -- 

"Most of the time I think of it as infatuation, Lex." 

"But?" 

Bruce pulls back enough to stroke Lex's thighs, to enjoy his wonderful *skin* -- 

The Fox wants to *purr* in his voice -- 

"I want you. I --" 

"Bruce, *talk* --" 

"Most of me -- most of me is very, very *dim* about matters of the heart. Do you know how long it took me to understand my feelings for Harvey?" 

"It was most of a semester before you started blushing around him -- shut up." 

Bruce blinks and works, very, very hard not to raise an eyebrow. 

"Oh -- fuck you, Bruce! You were the only one there I couldn't figure out in an *eye-blink*. Even Harvey was comprehensible with just a little thought. You were *interesting*." 

Bruce nods slowly. "So were you." 

"Yes, I *know* --" 

"Lex. You've given me something today which no one else ever has --" 

"You didn't give them a *chance* --" 

"Let me stand by you. As much as I can." 

"That's what I *want* -- and I know what you mean," Lex says, and tugs his hand out of Bruce's hair. He strokes Bruce's face. "You shaved for me." 

"I wanted -- your skin has always been sensitive." 

"Mm. You. I can do this." 

"You can do whatever you wish." 

Lex raises an eyebrow of his own. "Will you tell me once you've figured out *precisely* what you feel for me?" 

"To be honest, Lex, going by past experience, I probably won't be able to stop myself from doing it." 

Lex bites the tip of his tongue. "Selina Kyle... wasn't ready for your declaration." 

"I believe she's most of the way to Star City now." 

Lex *coughs* -- "I'm... sure it's not your fault." 

"You did an excellent job not laughing aloud at that." 

"Hope doesn't like laughter especially much." 

Bruce frowns and tries not to -- 

Let me, Brucie: FUCK. NO. There. 

Thank you. "Lex, I just had to allow the Fox to panic for me." 

"The important question -- are you still getting harder?" 

"Yes, but --" 

"Then don't *worry*," Lex says. "And -- tell me what you actually *want* to do." 

"I... hm. I've thought extensively about tonguing you until you lost control." 

"Really." 

Bruce kisses the tip of Lex's penis again. "Yes." He licks there once, twice -- 

"Swallow me. Just for -- ah, *fuck* --" 

Bruce closes his eyes and gives himself over to the sensation of holding Lex in his throat, holding a *man* -- 

It's been so *long* -- 

Yes, fuck, *yes* -- 

He's so -- 

*Thick* -- 

And warm, *hot* in my throat -- 

Oh, Brucie, he's -- 

His hands in our hair -- 

Thrust, he has to *thrust* -- 

Bruce groans -- 

And shudders for the feel of it going nowhere, the power and *sensation* -- 

"*Bruce*, fuck, your *mouth* -- I --" And Lex shakes his head and begins to rock his way in, begins to give them *friction* to go along with heat and size -- 

And his pubis is so sleek -- 

And the sounds he's making -- 

His curses and *groans* -- 

"I don't -- I don't *know* if I want to come this way, but you -- nnh. You are *certainly* inspiring, darling. Can you take harder?" 

Bruce nods and grips Lex's hips -- 

"Your -- your hands --" 

Bruce squeezes *hard* -- 

And Lex growls and starts to *pump* into Bruce's throat. He grunts and snarls, growls and *pulls* Bruce's hair -- "You -- stop making me *rude* --" 

Bruce *and* the Fox would like to raise their eyebrows for that, but it's much better to allow themselves to be taken -- 

To be fucked so *hard* -- 

So long, so -- 

"Bruce. *Bruce*."

Bruce opens his eyes -- and Lex is panting and showing his teeth. Lex is tensed and *straining* -- not to take Bruce harder. That -- Bruce pulls off -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

"Too much control," Bruce says, and flips Lex over onto his stomach -- 

Lex pushes up onto his knees -- 

And Bruce *shoves* him back down. 

"*Bruce* --" 

"I need you. I need you, Lex," and Bruce is shocked by the sound of his own voice, but not by the shake of his hands, or by the way it only eases once he spreads Lex -- 

Once Lex gasps and *clenches* -- 

"Lex... I." 

"*What*?" 

"Do they -- do they ever --" 

"No. I can't. I can't let them --" Lex shivers and laughs with *pain* in his voice. "I'm a fucking *mess*, but you --" 

"I like it. I like -- I'm just like you, Lex," Bruce says, and *stares* at Lex's hole, which is pink and small -- 

There aren't even any *downy* hairs in his cleft -- 

"You were always so..." 

"*What*, Bruce --" 

"Fascinating," and Bruce dips his head -- 

And Bruce dips his tongue -- 

And Lex makes a sound like someone strangled -- 

And the Fox growls --

And Bruce groans and *clutches* Lex, holding him and holding him still -- 

Fuck him. You have to -- 

I need -- I need to *taste* -- 

*Lex* needs -- 

"*Bruce*," and that was more *gritted* than spoken -- 

But Bruce can't stop licking, can't stop himself from studying the musk here, the scent -- 

Of *course* Lex dabs cologne here -- 

But perhaps only for him? 

It's worth asking, Brucie. In fact... 

Bruce pulls back -- 

"*Fuck* -- you. What are you -- what *do* you *want*?" 

"Is the cologne for me?" 

"The *cologne* is. Is." Lex breathes a laugh -- 

And Bruce can see that Lex is clutching at the duvet with both fists. "Lex..." 

"More. I -- more. Please." 

Bruce growls and darts in again, teases Lex's anus with the tip of his tongue -- 

Lex jerks and cries *out* -- 

The flesh is so... so *tight*, so -- 

Bruce kisses Lex's anus and hums -- 

"*Bruce* -- Bruce, I --" 

Say please again, Lexie... 

Give me *this* -- 

It's *yours*, Brucie. *Take* it. 

Bruce slips his tongue in and Lex's cry makes him sound much younger than thirty, much more *vulnerable*. 

He *loves* it -- 

So do *I* -- and Bruce can't keep himself from gripping Lex harder and harder still -- 

Can't keep himself from *shoving* his tongue in -- 

And in -- 

"*Fuck* -- you -- " And Lex *growls* a cry -- 

Lex tries to pull *away* --- and Bruce can't. 

He pins Lex's legs with his body -- 

"Fucking *hell*, Bruce --" 

He's leaving bruises with his fingers. He is -- 

This must be too *much*, but -- 

It feels wonderful. It feels *right* to take Lex this way, to *fill* him this way -- or at least to prepare him for the *concept* of being filled -- 

"*Hnh* -- *hnh* --" 

Yes. *Yes*, and that rhythm allows Bruce to hold on and *use* without getting a crick in his neck, allows him to *take* -- 

He's already thrusting his *hips*, even though all he can feel is the duvet -- 

I want in. 

We can't -- 

And he doesn't want *me*, but -- try. 

Bruce blushes and tries to imagine the words, the words *Lex* might use -- 

Just you, Brucie. You *know* what he wants -- 

Bruce pulls back -- 

Lex *shouts* -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"*Fuck* you, I -- what do you *want*?" And Lex shifts enough that he can look back over his shoulder -- 

"Your flexibility is --" 

"*Talk* --" 

"I want. To be inside you." 

Lex blushes and *pants* -- "I knew you were going to say that -- I." Lex gasps laughter and hangs his head --

"Please." 

"Don't say --" Lex groans and *tries* to grind against the duvet -- "Or do say it. It doesn't matter --" 

"*Lex* --" 

"I *can't*. Fuck, you --" Lex growls and *beats* at the bed with his fist -- three times. "It's too much." 

Bruce takes a deep breath and shudders -- 

"I'm --" 

"Don't apologize. I -- we can compromise." 

Lex snorts. "You'll only stick it in a *little* way...?" 

Bruce smiles, and it feels somewhat wild on his face, somewhat *foxed* -- "No. This," Bruce says, and shifts enough that he can spread Lex's *legs* enough to tug his scrotum back -- 

"Oh -- you *classicist*," and Lex laughs, forces his legs together, and pushes up on his elbows. "Let me *feel* --" 

"Lex. I..." Bruce spreads Lex again -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"Just this," and Bruce thrusts *between* -- 

"Oh *fuck* --" 

Bruce shifts, adjusts -- 

Bruce thrusts *again* and lets his own scrotum slap against Lex's -- 

"*Bruce*, you -- of course you know how this feels --" 

"Only -- only when I was too raw --" 

Lex pants and hangs his head again -- "You *loved* it when Harvey reamed you --" 

"*Yes*." 

"You -- you probably *begged* for it --" 

"On my *knees*, Lex --" 

"Fuck. *Fuck*, I need to jerk off --" 

"Not *yet*," Bruce says, and thrusts faster, willing his foreskin to catch a little against Lex's anus, his puckered and *furled* -- 

"How *badly* do you want --" 

"I want to *cover* you. I want to -- to shove you down with my *body* --" 

"You -- fucking *bear* --" 

"I want to *bite* you, and -- and taste your *blood* --" 

"*What* --" 

Bruce laughs -- 

Bruce gasps and lets the need within him drive him faster, *harder* -- 

"I love this *sound*, Lex." 

"It's -- wonderfully filthy, but about my *blood* --" 

"You -- *nnh*. You do it with *Mercy*." 

"She's unwell in different *ways* --" 

"*Lex*. I want *all* of you --" 

"*Fuck* -- me. I -- I didn't say that --" 

Bruce groans and shakes his head -- 

Bruce leans forward enough to grip Lex's shoulders and *push* -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"*Down* --" 

"*Bruce*, *listen* --" 

"I need -- don't *tease* me --" 

Lex moans -- and drops, clutching at the duvet once more and resting on his cheek -- 

His smooth, *flushed* cheek -- 

"Lex, you're so *beautiful* --" 

Lex squeezes his eyes shut and opens his mouth -- he whimpers and *blushes* -- 

"*Yes*, Lex --" 

"Don't -- fuck, don't *stop* --" 

"Faster?" 

"*Harder*," Lex says, showing his teeth and *lifting* his rear -- 

Pushing up onto his *knees* -- 

And it's impossible not to kneel up and *guide* the head of his penis over and over Lex's anus -- 

"Bruce, *thrust*!" 

"Lex, I -- " No words, no -- Bruce shoves Lex's thighs together and thrusts between -- 

"Fuck, *wait* --" 

"I can't --" 

"You *can*," Lex says, and reaches back to *tuck* himself --

Bruce groans and *needs*. Lex isn't circumcised *either*, and so it feels different from the way it always had with Harvey, feels slicker and somehow *softer* -- despite the heat and hard flesh. Bruce hears himself *grunt* -- 

Lex *shouts* -- 

And then Bruce is grunting for every thrust, stroking Lex everywhere he can reach, pinching and pulling, gripping Lex's *hips* and pulling -- 

"Bruce, come *on* --" 

"*Lex* --" 

And the grunts become *desperate* moans, because Lex is *flexing* his thighs, *working* Bruce's penis with skill and -- 

And -- 

"Who *else*, Lex?" 

Lex laughs and reaches back to *claw* the hand Bruce has on his hip -- 

"*Please* --" 

"*Come*, Bruce --" 

"Lex, *please* --"

"*Nnh*, the way you fucking *sound* --" 

"I'm -- I'm *begging* --" 

"Just you. Just -- fucking *you*, and maybe -- *fuck*, you get slick --" 

Bruce shudders and thrusts -- 

Bruce *groans* and thrusts, over and over, faster and *more*, and he has no idea if Lex can come this way, but Lex doesn't know, *either*, and that means they're together -- 

("*Everything* is new with you, big guy.") 

*Bruce* whimpers and hangs his head, shakes and needs and *thrusts* -- 

He holds on and he tries -- 

Don't try. 

But -- 

He'll fuck our mouth *viciously* if we -- 

Oh. Oh, yes -- and Bruce knows the look on his face is *demonic* -- Harvey had said so himself -- but he can't hold it back, or even dial it *down*. All he can do is grip Lex's hip with one hand and *take* with the other, stroke and feel and *have* -- 

Taste Lex's *sweat* -- 

"Bruce. Come all over me," Lex says, and his voice is insinuating and low. A purr without anything resembling animal sensibilities -- 

"Lex --" 

"I'll lower -- lower my head. You'll come on my *face* --" 

"*Hnh* --" 

"I thought you'd like that..." 

"Lex. There's -- no *disrespect* --" 

Lex laughs -- 

Lex gasps and *moans* --

"Bruce. I'm going to fuck *one* of your holes very, very hard --" 

Bruce growls and *slams* between Lex's thighs -- 

Bruce shouts and feels his world, his self, contract to explosive pleasure and -- 

Yeah, oh, *yeah* -- 

Brother -- 

*Ride* it -- 

So that's what he does, thrusting over and over as he grips and claws at Lex, as he squeezes and *molests*. Lex turns his head enough that Bruce can see him *wince* -- 

And it makes Bruce spurt once more -- 

And Lex gasps -- 

And Lex drags a hand over his -- his sticky *chin* -- 

Bruce grunts and sits back on his heels -- 

"Oh, Bruce, you..." Lex turns and *stands*, licking his fingers clean and exposing the reddened hollows of his hips, the fingertip welts on his shoulders, the semen all over his chest and chin and *throat* -- 

Bruce moans and squeezes himself *hard* -- 

"Brucie. Darling --" 

"I -- please don't call me Brucie." 

Lex raises his eyebrows and licks a long stripe over his hand. "I wouldn't have thought Harvey would call you that." 

"No, he. The Fox does --" 

Lex waves his relatively clean hand. "Good enough. I... hm. I rather enjoyed that." 

"I... yes? I wouldn't have ejaculated on your face --" 

"I know. *I* chose it, darling." 

Bruce licks his lips -- and allows himself to stare at Lex's blood-dark erection, which rises as exclamatorily as the tower itself, mushrooming at the head -- 

"You know, if you'd just stared at my *cock* more often in high school..." 

"I was *trying* to be subtle, Lex." 

"And failing. *Miserably*," Lex says, and closes the distance between them before cupping Bruce's face. "But succeeding at confusing the hell out of everyone -- including me. No one could tell if you hated me, wanted me, or wanted to vivisect me." 

"Hm. Is this where I admit that I had my own doubts?" 

Lex tilts Bruce's chin up. He's smiling sharply -- and sucking the semen off his fingers. 

Some is still shining on his cheek -- 

His *chin* -- 

"Lex..." 

"You came on my face, darling." 

Bruce shivers. "Lex. I. I don't know what to say." 

"Say you're sorry." 

"I'm sorry --" 

"Say you'll do it whenever I tell you to." 

"Lex --" 

"Please," Lex says, and his expression is more angry than anything else, but his eyes... 

His eyes are full of that perfect, awe-inspiring greed. Bruce swallows and tries to show Lex everything in his own eyes -- 

Lex shivers. "Bruce, please stop -- whatever it is you're doing." 

"I'm -- hm. All right --" 

"*What* were you doing?" 

"Attempting to be honest with my eyes." 

"And... that led to..." Lex licks his lips and shivers again. "Of course it led to you looking as if you couldn't decide whether to hug me or to throw me down and make me squeal like a pig." 

"I -- hm." 

"Yes." 

"The Fox... doesn't actually want to do... that." 

Lex raises an eyebrow and pushes a hand into Bruce's hair. "No?" 

"No. Though I have to say he's invested in changing your mind about anal sex in general." 

Lex grins. "And you're not?" 

"Lex, it's fair to say I'm invested in many, many things which include being naked with you." 

"My Virtues have a communal shower." 

"You -- that's horrifying, Lex." 

"No, what's *horrifying* is watching them wash each other's backs and listening to them discuss how best to catch my eye at different points on a given day." 

"They do that even though they know you watch the footage?" 

"Hope doesn't let even Eva clean the lenses. She does it herself with some WE glass cleaner -- excellent formulation, by the way --" 

"It was a brainchild of Father's --" 

"He doesn't sleep, does he?" 

"I believe he and Mother trade nights." 

"That *would* explain why they didn't have the decency to birth a daughter I could marry --" 

"Lex. Do you really think it would have been a good idea for them to give me a blood sibling? A *female* blood sibling?" 

Lex looks somewhat *stricken* -- "How the hell did we get back *here*?" 

"I think I would do or say nearly anything to avoid thinking of your Virtues naked, Lex." 

Lex snorts -- 

Coughs -- 

"Then -- then do *this*, darling," and Lex tightens his grip on Bruce's hair and drags the head of his penis over and over Bruce's lips -- 

Bruce opens his mouth -- 

"Don't. Move." And Lex is almost *tracing* Bruce's lips with his penis -- 

"Lex --" 

"Shh. I... too long." 

Bruce nods in lieu of voicing his agreement aloud -- 

And Lex winces, shudders -- "Bruce, I --" He shakes his head and pushes in -- 

Bruce groans and sucks as hard as he can, keeping the force of it as steady as possible as Lex pushes deeper -- 

Inch by *inch* -- 

"*Fuck*, you -- the way you *look* at me --" 

Lex pushes into Bruce's *throat* -- and Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

Lex gasps a laugh. "That's a *question*?" 

Bruce *swallows* rather than nodding -- 

"Nnh. *Damn* it, you -- your fucking eyes are a *reminder* --" 

Bruce swallows again -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

*Please*, Bruce thinks, and wishes it to be in his eyes, to be all over him -- 

"They -- they remind me that we haven't been doing this all along, that I can't just -- call up a motherfucking memory. If you'll -- *mm* -- pardon the *phrase*." 

Bruce swallows twice -- and then keeps doing it, because every time he does Lex makes a sound -- 

And gets closer to an actual thrust. 

Right now, he's still only rocking back and forth and panting, *blowing* -- 

Bruce sucks and *presses* with his tongue -- 

"How the *fuck* did he give this *up* -- don't *answer* me --" 

Bruce closes his eyes and tries to *take* his mouth with Lex's penis -- 

"Oh, fuck. Oh, *fuck* --" And Lex growls and *grips* Bruce's head with both hands -- 

And the thrusts, when they come, are powerful and *fast*. Lex pulls him into each one -- 

Lex's eyes are squeezed shut and he -- 

His breaths are nearly *sobs*. His other sounds are nearly *cries*. It makes Bruce wish he could offer *comfort*, and it doesn't feel like enough to merely cup Lex's bruising hips, or to stroke his flexing buttocks. It *also* isn't enough to squeeze and *claw* Lex there -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

But perhaps Lex has trained himself to enjoy that sort of treatment. Perhaps -- 

Perhaps his Virtues...? 

No, we're not thinking about them. 

But -- 

This is good enough for him as it *is*. 

He -- needs us just this much. 

Yeah. He does. How does it feel? 

To be needed again. To be able to *feel* it -- 

I need you, too. This is better. 

Agreed, on both counts, and Bruce opens his eyes -- and stares into Lex's own. The black of Lex's pupils has nearly overtaken the slate of his iris, and his expression speaks of purest desperation -- 

"You're too fucking --- don't raise your *eyebrows* -- let me fuck *you* --" 

Bruce nods --

Lex shouts and his knees buckle -- 

Bruce holds Lex *up* -- 

And Lex starts to *pet* Bruce even as his thrusts grow brutal and random, Lex starts to moan and *shudder* -- 

Bruce pets Lex in *turn* -- 

"Bruce, I -- I'm sorry, I'm sorry for -- not everything, not ever -- *oh* --" 

Some things are worth more than apologies, the Fox says, and smiles brightly enough -- 

It almost seems to light the space they share -- 

We're not that crazy. 

Why is your hair black? 

All right, *you're* that crazy. I'm not. Pay attention -- 

And Lex slips most of the way out and shouts again -- 

And again and again as he spills in Bruce's mouth. His semen is hot and more sweet than anything else, more sweet than Harvey's had ever *been*, save in the summers when Harvey would ask Alfred to prepare only the healthiest meals for them. 

Bruce wants to feed Lex raspberries and cream. 

Bruce wants to drag a mango over Lex's flesh and -- 

Lex pulls out and staggers back -- he doesn't fall. 

Bruce stands and pulls him close, kissing him with the small bit of semen he'd been savoring -- 

Lex jerks and shudders and wraps his arms around Bruce's neck -- 

Presses close the way Selina -- 

Not Selina! 

*Bruce* shudders and kisses Lex more deeply -- 

And is ultimately unsurprised when Lex uses his legs to wrestle them down, wrestle Bruce onto his *back* and rise above, panting and smiling like a conqueror -- hm. 

Bruce reaches up to stroke Lex's still-sticky cheek. 

"There's a question in your eyes, darling." 

"I'm currently trying to decide whether I'd find you even more attractive were you to be standing on a mound of bodies --" 

"What --" 

"-- while covered in blood. There would be a sword involved." 

Lex opens his mouth, closes it again, narrows his eyes -- "What sort of sword?" 

"A very large one. Perhaps a bastard." 

"I prefer claymores -- " Lex sighs. "Hank Hazetta has *much* to answer for." 

"I truly did always assume Harvey would marry a woman who looked like Black Helga." 

Lex nods and bites his lip. "He *was* always able to tolerate the *worst* sorts of women if they had a certain... physique." 

Bruce smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "Let's just say that you weren't the first person to lament my being born male." 

Lex smacks his chest. "The very least you could do is... I don't know, periodically *transform* into a female." 

Bruce hums and looks down at his mostly soft penis. "I believe I would miss it --" 

"*You're* the one who pointed out your lack of manliness, Bruce. I'm --" 

"I was referring to how aroused I become when I wear silk --" 

"Don't finish that sentence." 

"But --" 

"I'm not -- old enough? I'm not old enough." 

The Fox smiles. "I might have been talking about my *uniform*, dollface." 

"But you *weren't*." 

Bruce hums. "I was mostly joking." 

"Mostly -- I'm *not* asking you to clarify," Lex says, and throws himself down on his back beside Bruce. "How long is it going to take Kent to find Constance, do you think?" 

"Less time than it will take him to call me." 

"Yes, I *know* -- you mean significantly less." 

Bruce smiles ruefully and nods. "The good news is that the significance of the time period may be entirely subjective." 

Lex frowns and folds his hands on his chest. "I don't -- he surprised you." 

"Yes." 

"You didn't predict his being as powerful --" Lex cuts himself off and his frown becomes a scowl. "If you don't at *least* take the knives, I will plaster your penthouse with pictures of Hope smiling." 

"I do, in fact, intend to take the knives." 

Lex brightens immediately. "Good." 

"And the sword." 

"You don't even --" 

"I love the sword, Lex." 

"It's a wonderful -- you know it's not very sharp." 

"I'm very, very good with swords." 

Lex's penis twitches. They stare at it together. 

"We could --" 

"We *will* fence. Right now," Lex says, sitting up and moving for the bathroom. 

Bruce follows. "Do you *have* a fencing uniform in my size?" 

"We're fencing in our underwear, darling." 

Bruce stops in the doorway and smiles helplessly. "Lex, I --" 

"No declarations!" 

"I... thought..." 

Lex pauses halfway into the shower. His back is *lightly* flushed -- 

Touch him. 

But -- 

Trust me. 

I do, and Bruce moves closer, splaying one hand against the center of Lex's back and stroking up until he can feel -- barely -- his heartbeat. 

"I'm -- exceedingly contrary." 

"Yes." 

"Somewhat bloody-minded." 

"Yes, that's --" 

"Shut up." 

"Lex --" 

Lex turns to -- glare at him. Somewhat murderously. 

Bruce raises his hands *slowly* -- 

And Lex snorts. "Look, I -- do you care about me?" 

"Very much. I --" 

"Will you *stand* with me -- assuming I keep my promises, spoken and not?" 

"Of course. Lex, I --" 

"Am I more attractive than your mother?" 

"Lex." 

"Wrong answer, but, well, you *are* you. Come here," Lex says, and tugs Bruce bodily into the shower with him -- "How much do you *weigh*?" 

"I fluctuate between approximately two hundred fifty and approximately two hundred sixty-five pounds." 

"You don't control your weight more exactly than that?" 

Bruce leans against the wall and allows the Fox to enjoy watching the shift and flex of muscles in Lex's back -- 

"I can *feel* that -- one moment," Lex says, and punches in a code on the presumably waterproof console. Water showers down on them from above -- "In a few moments, I'll turn on the jets to either side of us -- answer the question." 

"I like Alfred's cooking." 

"You -- that's it?" 

"Yes." 

Lex turns to glare at him. "Bruce, you have to take your body *seriously* --" 

"Very true. I also have to take *Alfred* seriously, and he has -- more than once -- very politely threatened to quit if I continued to treat his food as fuel." 

"You're not dominant enough." 

The Fox shows his teeth. "Assume the position. Dollface." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "Does that work on anyone?" 

The Fox waves a hand. "To a certain extent. Almost always more than what *Bruce* wants." 

"And your wants?" 

"I like it all *kinds* of ways, dollface. I don't -- haaa -- get bent." 

Lex licks his teeth and nods thoughtfully -- 

And the Fox pushes Bruce forward again. "Would you prefer it if the split were more... dramatic?" 

"I'm honestly not sure," Lex says, and begins soaping Bruce's chest. "I mean, of course anything which keeps you *functional* is optimal --" 

"But a dramatic split would be more exciting?" 

Lex narrows his eyes and pinches Bruce's nipples hard -- 

"Lex..." 

Lex licks his lips -- and meets Bruce's eyes. "I think, perhaps, the dramatic split would be safer." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Yes?" 

"I already know that I never want the *Fox* to fuck me up the ass." 

Bruce sucks in a breath. "I see." 

"Yes, you do. We're not fucking in the shower, by the way, so...?" 

"Allow me to help with our ablutions." 

"Oh, absolutely. Darling."


	11. Chapter 11

"You know, Bruce, Hope is far more deft than I am at bandaging --"

"No, Lex." 

"Hmm. I suppose you want me to *lick* this gruesome wound of yours?" 

"The thought had occurred." 

"Hmm. Did you use a condom with --" 

"Both of them. The Fox always does." 

"You... are... fuck, come *here*."


	12. Chapter 12

It's well after midnight by the time the pilot takes off for Gotham, and, truly, it would have been later than that had Alfred not advised the woman to nap the afternoon and evening away.

Alfred *always* plans ahead -- 

And he really, *really* didn't want us staying the night in the tower, Brucie. 

Indeed. 

At present, Alfred has gone back to reading _Cyrano de Bergerac_ , but he's doing so in a somewhat disapproving way. 

Yeah, you can tell by that one frown line just to the left of the midpoint of his forehead. 

Indeed. Do you think -- 

*He* thinks you spent the day fucking a supervillain instead of doing *useful* things. 

Technically, Selina -- 

Probably wouldn't do anything to get the attention of an assassin. Or hire *three* assassins. *Relativity*, Brucie. 

In--

Stop saying 'indeed.' 

Hm. "Alfred..." 

"Yes, Master Bruce." 

Ooh, you made him lose his question marks. 

Bruce winces. "Alfred... Lex has made any number of promises." 

Alfred looks up -- and then looks at him *over* his reading glasses. "Indeed, sir?" 

"He... he wants my help." 

Alfred looks at him. 

"He... in the course of his business, he stumbled across a small child being trained and tortured by an assassin." 

"*What*? Why did he not --" 

"Everyone he sent to free the girl -- she's a lovely little girl, and is, perhaps, four or five years old -- has been brutally murdered." 

"And he wants *you* to free her? Has the word *trap* occurred to you, sir?" 

When I grow up, I am going to be *just* as paranoid as he is, and that's not gonna be any fun for *anyone*. 

Almost certainly not. "I won't be going without backup, Alfred. We've invited Kent -- who will be doing the searching." 

"'We.' I see. And Kent..." Alfred sighs and removes his reading glasses. "Perhaps you spared a thought along the lines of how Mr. Kent is the person Mr. Luthor despises most in the *world*?" 

"Lex certainly wasn't happy about it, Alfred, but we agreed that Kent could locate the girl and Cain -- the assassin -- most quickly," Bruce says, turning his chair more fully toward Alfred and crossing his legs. "Alfred, I didn't *have* to manipulate the man, or even ask --" 

"*Yes*, sir, but --" 

"He said... he said he'd been having an affair with me for twelve years." 

Alfred blinks at him. 

"And... I'm more than inclined to believe him." 

"Master Bruce --" 

"Just one other thing, Alfred. No one person or book taught me more of the science of reading lies, half-truths, and lies liars tell themselves than you. I have forgotten *nothing*." 

Alfred takes a sharp breath and straightens his posture minutely. "I take your point, sir. Do you take *mine*?" 

"Lex is --" 

"My point, such as it is, involves Mr. Luthor only peripherally. You are approaching your life as it stood three months ago much as you approached the stonework which was formerly in front of your home." 

"*Our* home, Alfred --" 

"*Sir*." 

Bruce winces -- "It hardly *feels* as though I'm swinging a *sledgehammer*, Alfred." 

"No, I imagine it feels rather better than that ever *could*. Be that as it may, sir, you have placed yourself -- and your loved ones -- on a precipice overlooking a potentially fatal drop. In the time between then and now, you have edged further and *further* along that precipice rather than doing anything whatsoever to pull yourself back from the edge --" 

"You're not wrong, Alfred. But... I've also made two friends and gained two lovers." 

"And *lost* a lover --" 

"The one you most approved of, yes, I know, Alfred," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I haven't given up hope, however." 

"And your... alter ego, sir...?" 

Bruce winces and stares at his ungloved hands -- 

Let me -- 

It won't help, Fox. 

It would make me *feel* better. 

It would, ultimately, make *me* feel worse -- 

"I see," Alfred says, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "Master Bruce, have you ever considered sharing your deadly secrets with a professional?" 

Bruce frowns. "And... you're not referring to Dinah?" 

"*No*, sir, I am not referring to Miss Lance." 

Then -- 

He means a shrink. Maybe like the one who fixed Harvey up. 

Bruce blinks. "Alfred...?" 

"Is the concept so very strange, sir? You have begun ascribing thoughts, motivations, and *emotions* -- all of which are some degree of opposite to your own -- to an imaginary gentleman who dresses extravagantly and goes out to fight crime using your body." 

"We do that *together*, Alfred --" 

"*Sir*." 

"I... imagine that wasn't the most helpful thing I could have said." 

Alfred looks at him as if he's *mad* -- and then laughs. The laughter begins softly, at first, but slowly gains volume and *intensity*... 

Don't tell him you made Lex laugh like that. 

No, that probably wouldn't work especially well. 

"Alfred --" 

"One -- one *moment*, sir," and Alfred takes out his handkerchief and begins to dab at his eyes. 

"All right, Alfred," Bruce says, and sits back, trying -- 

Definitely tell him I want us to merge. And... play down the whole thing where you *don't* want it. 

Do you, Fox? Still want to merge, I mean? 

Yes and no. What I want isn't important here -- 

I disagree -- 

It's *less* important than making sure Alfred remains on our side, Bruce. 

I'd rather not -- 

You don't like being cold enough for tactical decisions. I know, *believe* me, I know. But you have to. 

Bruce frowns. All right, Fox. I will. But I need you to know -- 

That you care about me. I can't forget. Not ever. 

No? 

You built me to *always* know it. 

Brother... 

"You were *saying*, sir?" 

Bruce looks up and smiles ruefully. "The Fox -- wants us to be one person. Again, I mean." 

Alfred leans forward slightly -- and then sits straight once more. "You do not?" 

"I... I've been very lonely, Alfred. It's been -- having the Fox as a believably separate entity has almost been like having Harvey again." 

Alfred frowns. "Sir, Master Harvey will *always* be your brother --" 

"Alfred, I..." Bruce shakes his head. "I believe I grew too accustomed to having him as my *incestuous* brother." 

"Now, sir, there is nothing wrong with adolescent experimentation --" 

"I'm still in love with him, Alfred. I -- I'll always be in love with him, I think. Sometimes. Sometimes I --" 

Don't tell that part. He'll definitely want you to see a shrink for that. 

"Sir...?" And Alfred sounds *worried* -- 

"Sometimes I lose myself to fantasy, Alfred. That's all," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I lose myself, and I grow... very lonely. The desire for... for a true confidant becomes very great." 

Alfred frowns and nods. "I believe I understand, sir. Still... might I recommend less *reckless* methods of searching for... for replacements for Master Harvey?" 

Better than recommending a damned head-shrinker. 

Yes, he does seem to be...

Easing back on the throttle. Let's remember this method. 

As you say. Bruce smiles ruefully. "I'll keep that thought duly in mind. It... I must admit that it's been wonderful to find, in Lex and Dinah, people who... understand minds like my own." 

Whoops.

What -- 

Alfred frowns. "Have they been *encouraging* the division in your mind, sir?" 

Blink. 

Bruce blinks. "Alfred, I --" 

Laugh. 

Bruce laughs. And understands. "I don't think it would be... hm. No, I don't think I'd much enjoy spending time with people who encourage madness in me." 

"Truly, sir?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I do understand that my desire for... a brother of the spirit has led me to... difficult places, Alfred. I don't wish to make myself any worse," Bruce says, and is relieved to discover that that much is true. 

We'll be okay. 

I hope so. 

Alfred looks... troubled, still, but less actively worried. 

"Alfred, I have no intention of... throwing myself off any cliffs. Or any *more* cliffs, as the case may be. I'm... well. I'm happy." 

Alfred studies him for a long moment -- and then smiles warmly. "May you stay just that way, sir." 

"Thank you, Alfred."


	13. Chapter 13

"Wait, wait, are you saying she dumped you and crossed the *country*, big guy?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully and leans against the weights. He'd managed to give himself a slight strain in his calf during his truncated patrol last night, and calling Harvey is an excellent way to remind himself to use the Jacuzzi rather than working out more and possibly injuring himself seriously. He doesn't want -- 

"What the hell did you *say* to her?" 

"I -- it's possible that I was -- a trifle -- too honest." 

"Ohh... Bruce. How too honest?" 

Bruce laughs softly -- 

"Hey, you're still laughing, though. *That's* something." 

"It helps that Alfred seems to remain hopeful that I can salvage... something. Possibly before she moves all her belongings to Star City." 

Harvey snorts. "Well, Alfred *is* smarter than both of us put together, so that's something." 

"Indeed. In any event... I told her how I felt about her." 

"Bruce, you --" Harvey sighs. "I'm wincing. Can you feel me wincing?" 

"As clearly as I could if we were together in a dark room with my hand on your face --" 

Harvey coughs -- 

And Bruce smiles and closes his eyes to pretend, reaching out to trace the ghost of Harvey's features. "All I can say is that it seemed to be a good idea at the time." 

"Women -- ah, hell, big guy, some women *do* go for that kind of thing. Usually the ones with a lot of cats." 

"She does have *a* cat --" 

"Nah, nah. Needs to be at least five." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- and then remembers various hoarders of the Fox's acquaintance. "You're speaking of... a certain neediness?" 

"A certain *romantic* neediness, big guy. The kind of woman who still believes in love at first sight, even though they're old enough to know better." 

"Harv. *I* still believe in love at first sight." 

Harvey groans exaggeratedly. "Big guy, *work* with me." 

Bruce grins. "What can I say, Harv? Some sights are better than others." 

Harvey snickers. "Yeah, yeah. Well -- all right, considering how you *described* the oh-so-peripatetic Miss Kyle..." 

"She really is... hm. Something to see." 

"Hey, is *that* where you took the jet the other day?" 

Oh... hm. 

"Wait, wait, you said Star City, not Metropolis. All Mom said was that you were working on a 'private project.' Only she said it like it was something to get *out* of you." 

"I... went to see Lex." 

"You -- uh. *Why*?" 

Project. You're doing a -- 

"He has access to a very large amount of kryptonite --" 

"Why the hell do you need *that*?" 

Good question, but -- "I -- it's a little embarrassing." 

"Big guy, what expression is on my face right now." 

Bruce reaches out for the ghost and smiles. "You seem to be working to repress a certain degree of powerful -- yet fond -- exasperation." 

"Oh, I'll give you fond, all right. What the hell do you need the purple princess's -- hey, wait, that's not why you like Selina, is it?" 

Bruce considers -- 

Nah. 

True. "They really do prefer far different shades. Generally."

"But are they both --" 

"Harv, I'm absolutely convinced that they would loathe each other from the moment they entered the same room. Possibly the same building." 

And -- 

"Now you're frowning, Harv." 

"Yeah, I am. I -- would they loathe each other because they're so much alike? You really -- hell, we both know you *appreciated* Lex a little too much." 

Bruce smiles and sighs. "I still do, Harv." 

"Wait, did you -- you *know* he's shady as hell, now --" 

"We... discussed that. Thoroughly." 

"Yeah, but did you -- fuck, I'm not asking. But I'll be asking *later*, get me?" 

"Yes, Harv --" 

"What's *embarrassing* you if not *that*?" 

"Well, I've had some ideas about a potential... hmm. Not truly a *force field* --" 

"You -- uh. Bruce, brother, why do you -- *what* do you need to protect from *Superman*?" 

Myself. Possibly. "Oh, it's nothing like that, Harv. It's just that kryptonite has properties like... well, like no other substance on earth. One of those properties is that it can be... hmm... forced into something like a *beam*, with no apparent limit to breadth or intensity --" 

"Okay, you're losing me, but you had me for a minute there. How are you *not* talking about a force field?" 

Because I don't know if it will work, yet. "Well... hm. I suppose I *am*, but there's still the question of how to limit it once I... turn it on. And then, of course, there's the question of how it can be marketed." 

Harvey snickers. "Yeah, uh. 'Guaranteed to keep Superman out of your house' is pretty much only attractive to *one* group of consumers." 

"And not quite the group Father would want to court, yes. Well. It will almost certainly come to nothing --" 

"But you still went Lex-hunting for it. Big guy... you'd tell me if there was something wrong, right?" 

That depends. "Of course, Harv --" 

"That -- I'm a little suspicious of that. I have to say." 

Bruce winces, but -- 

Say it. Just -- say it, Bruce. 

Bruce takes a deep breath and nods. "Harv... you know there are some things we can't speak about." 

"Okay, you probably felt that wince on your face, hunh." 

Bruce strokes the ghost, searching for the deeper, more permanent lines three years has given -- 

"Bruce... *is* that... I mean, you can't let -- Selina might just be a little *skittish*, you know?" 

Skittish for excellent *reasons* -- "I do know that, Harv. It's -- I'm all right." 

"Are you *sure*." 

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment. "I miss... certain things. A great deal." 

"I know. I know. And -- so do I." 

Bruce opens his eyes -- 

"I think you knew that, big guy." 

"I. Harv." 

Harvey sucks in a sharp breath -- "Bruce --" 

"We can't. I know that." 

"Do you? No -- of course you do. The way I've been -- three goddamned *years* --" 

"Harv, are *you* --" 

"I'm *fine*, brother. I'm *golden*. Except that you're not happy enough. And I can't pretend not to see that." 

Bruce swallows and -- 

Tell him -- tell him *something* -- 

But -- 

We can't let him *hurt*, Bruce! 

No. No, not ever. But I can't share you with him -- 

No, but -- and you can't tell him -- wait! You bought Selina flowers! 

"Big guy? You still --" 

"I bought -- I bought Selina flowers." 

"Uh. Yeah? Some women hate that --" 

"She's one of them," Bruce says, and laughs softly. 

"Ah, Bruce --" 

"It's just... it's only... the florist. I liked the florist very much." 

"Uh... hunh. Yeah? Like... liked very much as in you want to invite... her?" 

"Her, yes. Dinah Lance." 

"Dinah. Dinah. Dinah. Hunh. Not very slinky. Kind of more... homey. Does she suit her name?" 

"Not in the slightest, actually. She's... somewhat rough." 

""Rough.' Like... she beats up her customers? What?" 

Bruce laughs again. "She was very... ah. Stern with one of her customers while I was on the phone with her the other day --" 

"And you talk to her on the phone. Jesus, big guy, you're making friends!" 

"Yes, I believe I am. You see... it's all right, Harv --" 

"Wait, are you making friends because you *want* to, or are you making friends because you're worried about me worrying about you?" 

Bruce smiles. "Harv. I'm not quite that altruistic. Though I have to admit that Dinah... well, we met accidentally --" 

"You accidentally bought Selina flowers?" 

Whoops. Try --

Yes. "I chose her shop somewhat at random. I... she's very young, though." 

"She owns her own flower shop. Those things take serious capital -- she can't be that young." 

"She inherited from her mother --" 

"And you got her talking about her family. Okay, I think I like her better than Selina." 

"Harv, you haven't met *either* of them. And Selina's family is -- well, they've passed away --" 

"Did she *tell* you that, or was Alfred extremely scary?" 

Split the difference. 

Yes. "Ah... somewhat more the latter --" 

"There ya go. What does Dinah look like?" 

"She has short, black hair --" 

"Is she mannish, at all?" 

The Fox fills his mind with images of her scarred, creamy skin and her high, soft breasts --

"I think... I think it would be more accurate to say that she prefers mannish *men*. Exceedingly mannish men." 

"Ooh, tough one. I mean -- can you distract her with all that hair?" 

"Harv --" 

"This is an important *question*, big guy. I mean -- we're talking *three damned years*, here," he says, and lowers his voice to a whisper. 

"I --" 

No, you can't tell him. 

Damn. 

Yeah -- 

"Wait, wait, I'm asking. Lex." 

"He... we spoke about our feelings, Harv." 

"He doesn't *have* -- augh. No, I'm back to not asking." 

"Perhaps for the best." 

"Heh. I heard that little -- you're gonna fight me on this, aren't you?" 

Bruce winces. "Harv, I never want to fight with you about *anything* --" 

"And you never really have. Not even when -- " Harvey growls. "Hell, I really need to -- my summation is tomorrow on the Strangler case." 

Bruce blinks. "May I --" 

"Still no. But I promise to perform it for you even better than I'll do it in court. Not that it'll matter -- one of the jurors came close to *spitting* on the guy when he went up to take the stand." 

"He took the stand in his own defense?" 

Harvey yawns -- only somewhat ostentatiously. "Yep. Talked a lot of shit about how the cops *scared* him and how the Fox *railroaded* him. He was about as credible -- heh. He was about as credible as the Fox would be as a priest, actually." 

Bruce coughs -- 

"Liked that one, did ya?" 

"Quite --" 

"Man, when that guy planted a big, wet one on Mayor Hill-- ah, you shoulda been there, big guy. Except *not*, because I had to pretend to be all indignant at the big ginger freak instead of laughing my ass off like I *wanted* to do." 

Oh... 

Does he -- *ask* him, Brucie! 

"Do you... *how* do you feel about the Fox, Harv?" 

"Hunh? Me? Well -- he does a whole hell of a lot of useful things, and he's damned well making Gotham a better place, so -- I'm all for him." 

"Truly?" 

"Yep. Of course, the *lawyer* in me gets a little queasy about *how* he does all those helpful things, but -- all right, lemme lock my door for a minute." 

"Harv?" 

"Just a sec," Harvey says, and his chair creaks -- 

And his shoes thump against the thin, cheap carpeting in his office -- 

It still smells of *decades* of cigarettes despite Harvey's best efforts to the contrary -- 

And Bruce hears the lock engage.

"There we go. Now we're gonna pretend you're Gilda and that we've been getting hot and heavy over the phone. Except not." 

Bruce -- blinks. "I saw that coming, and yet --" 

"And yet, yeah. Christ, somebody should beat me until I shut up *all* the time --" 

"I profoundly disagree --" 

"Maybe don't talk like that around Dinah? Maybe." 

"Hm. I'm not sure I could speak the way *you* do, Harv." 

Harvey sighs. "Nor should the attempt ever be made, Master Bruce," he says, and his Alfred impression -- 

"Harv, that remains acutely horrifying." 

Harvey snickers. "I'm *almost* sorry, big guy. All right, here's the deal. The reason for the secrecy?" 

"Yes?" 

"The Fox thinks there's someone bent in this office." 

Helene Carlyle. "Oh. Oh, no, Harv --" 

"Yeah. We -- me and Jim -- have our suspicions about who that might be, and we've been taking precautions, but -- yeah. That's the deal. Other vigilantes in other cities barely even pay *lip* service to the cops and DAs. It seems like the more powerful the capes get, the less they give a shit about actual *procedure*. I mean, that Superman guy's a real Boy Scout according to Jim's connections in Metropolis, but the Green assholes out west are *always* fucking with procedure, and the Flash hasn't managed to be on time to a meet-up since he started out. He's a damned speedster! How do you fuck *that* up?" 

It might have something to do with the fact that Barry Allen can't exactly sneak out of police meetings... "I... can't be sure, Harv."

Harvey sighs. "Yeah, neither can I. The Fox... well, Jim wants to punch his face in so bad he can taste it in his *sleep*, but even he admits that the force -- and this office -- would be a wreck without him. Apparently, he and Jim worked *closely* that first year and a half or so before I got on the fast track... ah, well. I just think he must be a halfway decent guy under that dumbass mustache." 

"Then I'm happy you work with him so closely --" 

"Ah, hell. This world shouldn't *need* vigilantes running around everywhere, big guy -- but it does. Still, I hope like *hell* things quiet down once Jim and I *finish* cleaning up the government in this town." 

"Do you truly think there could be an end, Harv?" 

"Ah... heh. Ask me that question when I can't *see* this fucking two-faced bitch right out my damned window --" 

"Harv --" 

"Sorry, sorry," Harvey says, and *that* creak means he's sitting on his desk proper. 

There's always *room* to sit on his desk, because, even when the DA's office is at its most chaotic, *Harvey's* neatness is a simple truth of the universe -- 

"Big guy?" 

"Yes, Harv. It's all right --" 

"I can't stand the idea of dirty cops. And we *are* cops in here. We investigate the stuff the cops don't have *time* for, and -- argh." 

"Harv... I've always been very proud of you." 

"Aw, big guy --" 

"And I wonder... perhaps the Fox looks up to you and Jim Gordon." 

Harvey snorts. "That guy? That guy looks up to whatever freaky porn he's got up on the walls of his *undoubtedly* freaky headquarters and spanks it while he's lifting weights or something." 

Bruce blinks. "That... is very vivid." 

Harvey snickers. "Sorry, sorry, please don't jerk off while you're working out. That's *dangerous*." 

"Hm. If you're *quite* sure." 

"Wait, give me some happy images before I have to do some actual work." 

"I -- yes?" 

"*Dinah*, big guy. The not-at-all homebody who likes flowers and cursing people out and big, manly men -- you can make your voice deeper around her." 

"That's definitely a thought --" 

"So you *are* attracted to her," and Harvey's smile is infectious despite the distance between them. 

Bruce smiles, as well. "She's quite lovely. Very... well. It's clear that she must have some sort of athletic hobby." 

"Aw, yeah, she's built?" 

"And, perhaps, 'stacked' --" 

"Don't use slang, big guy." 

"Hm." 

"But she's curvy?" 

"Very much so. She's approximately five feet nine inches tall, and has what appears to be a thirty-six inch bust. There's a fair amount of muscle through the chest, but she appears to be either a C cup or --" 

"Bruce, did you *measure* her?" 

"Not... with tape?" 

"Okay, okay, go on." 

"Thank you. Her waist is at least twenty-nine inches --" 

"*Thick*. Okay, okay, I can go with that --" 

"And her hips are thirty-nine to forty inches." 

"Jesus, where are you *finding* these women?" 

"In this case, on the lower East side. I was wandering the city." 

"Big guy, if you didn't keep inventing incredibly random and cool shit, I'd have to kick your ass." 

The Fox offers an image of himself bending Harvey back over his arm -- 

Smiling and whispering something -- 

Dirty. Something *dirty*. 

Perhaps next time. "I'll keep that in mind, Harv --" 

"What about her *legs*, Bruce?" 

"Well. They seem quite healthy and of the same length --" 

Harvey snorts. "How. Would they look. In silk stockings." 

They're *fabulous* in fishnets -- 

No, Fox. "Considering what she was wearing --" 

"Which was?" 

"Tight... jeans." 

"Ooh. All right. Stockings?" 

"Harv... I can honestly say that, were you not about to marry Gilda, and were Dinah older, I would be strongly tempted to introduce you to her." 

"My God. It only took you thirty years, but you've grown some *taste* in the ladies." 

"*Harv* --" 

"All right. Agatha and Berthe were *lovely*, *interesting* women, and I *appreciate* your introducing them to me --" 

"But they weren't your type." 

Harvey sighs a laugh. "Not so much. But Big Bad Harv is *never* gonna forget Berthe's grip strength, so there's that." 

Bruce hums. "The East Germans *are* well-known for the excellence of their shot-putters, Harv."

"Uh, huh. And I've never been surrounded by as many hormones as were in that Olympic Village, so there's *that*." 

"Indeed." 

"Big guy -- *how* young is she?" 

"Seventeen." 

"Oh -- uh. What?" 

"She placed out of high school and took over her late mother's business -- it had been held in trust by her erstwhile guardian." 

"And her guardian isn't going to show up in front of your penthouse with a baseball bat?" 

"I hope not. Though -- it's Ted Grant. He wouldn't *need* a weapon." 

Harvey snorts. "Christ, no. *Damn*, make nice to her! See if we can get some prize-fight tickets around here."

"As you say, Harv," Bruce says, and imagines licking the taste of cologne and sweat from Harvey's throat -- 

Imagines opening his pants in their luxury box, high and far away from the eyes of the other spectators. And he would reach -- 

And Harvey would sigh -- 

("Your hands, fuck, I love your *hands* --"

"Harv, *yours* --" 

"Mine are *stupid* right now, big guy --" 

"Mine are hardly --" 

"They're gonna make me *come*. That's as smart as they *need* to be.")

"-- tell me you're thinking about Dinah over there." 

"She has... very, very strong hands." 

"God, yeah. Messing with plants all day would probably -- can't be as strong as Gilda's, though." 

Oh, Harv... "No...?" 

Harvey makes a pained sound -- "I'm. I'm gonna go now, big guy." 

"Are you --" 

"I'll be all right. I -- so long as everything is good between us." 

"Always, Harv." 

"So long -- hey. Hey. There's a circus in town." 

Bruce winces. "Selina had wanted me to take her there before --" 

"Before she freaked out and lost her *chance* to go to a circus with a fine, handsome man like yourself. But Dinah's right there." 

"I -- hm. Do you think --" 

"I *think* that if you're *going* to date someone that young --" 

"We're not. We're not *dating*, Harv --" 

"But you *do* want her. You know her damned *measurements*, big guy!" 

"I think... hm." 

Uh. Heh. That's -- 

That's somewhat terribly amusing -- 

Really yeah. Don't tell her, but -- 

"-- *what*, Bruce?" 

"I believe. I seem to be planning a new... wardrobe for her." 

"You --" Harvey coughs. "Don't tell her that." 

"I wasn't planning --" 

"Seriously, don't just not plan, *plan* on not telling her that. At all. Ever." 

"Do you think -- well, no, I wouldn't want her to be offended." 

"And what's wrong with jeans?" 

"Nothing! I... it was more her... choice of top -- it's not important." 

"There ya go, big guy. Go with that." 

Bruce thinks of the faint milky scent which had been on her corset from its time under her breasts -- "Yes, I believe I will." 

Harvey breathes out a sigh of relief. "Okay. *Now* I'm going -- call her." 

"Yes, Harv --" 

"Seriously. Take her to the circus, buy her some cotton candy --" 

"Perhaps we could all go together -- except that I seem to be able to feel you wincing again. Will you be busy this weekend?" 

"I'm -- I promised Gilda some modeling time." 

"Oh, Harv, that's wonderful! I've often thought that it would be nice to have something more three dimensional of you --" 

"Because you absolutely still have all of those -- sketches. Right. What's my expression now, big guy." 

"I -- hm. You're almost certainly doing your best to fight back a blush via sheer force of will --" 

"Got it in one. I'm not letting her show *anybody* --" 

"But Harv --" 

"It's just for her, big guy. And, like, a corner of her loft. A *dark* corner." 

Bruce hums. "I think I'll buy Gilda some flowers." 

"Bruce --" 

"Not right away. Perhaps... well, it usually takes her about three months to finish one of her sculptures --" 

"Big guy, seriously --" 

"She already knows I enjoy her work, Harv." 

"She knows -- she know a *lot* of *things*, Bruce --" 

"As you say. Does she still like lilies?" 

"Yes, but --" 

"Wonderful. Have a good day, Harv!" 

"Bruce -- *damn* it --" 

Bruce hums again -- 

"You're fucking with me." 

"Perhaps a little, Harv. My memories are entirely three-dimensional -- and vivid." 

Harvey sighs. "It's not like -- I mean, I don't have the *time* to work on my body the way I used to. The way *we* used to." 

Bruce blinks. "Harv, are you self-conscious?" 

"No! A little. Work with me, big guy, I haven't so much as swung a *bat* since last *year*." 

Bruce smiles. "May I compliment you, Harv...?" 

"What -- *no*. No, you *can't* compliment me right now. No." 

"Hmm. If you're sure." 

"I'm sure. Heh. Gilda says my body has more *character* now."

Bruce considers that -- 

Deeper lines around the mouth. We like that. 

And -- the hint of gauntness when he's been working very hard. 

He looks *serious* more often than he used to. That's hot, too. 

Yes, but also worrying -- 

But we can see -- 

Yes. "I believe I can see Gilda's point." 

"Aw, not you, too. Some of us *liked* getting compared to Greek gods." 

"Harv, you complained about it *constantly* --" 

"That's just my cover, big guy. Secretly it made me flex in front of mirrors." 

Bruce coughs his way through a snort -- 

"Liked that, too. *Good*."

"Harv, I'm not sure how you got that out with a straight *face*." 

Harvey sighs and there's a thumping noise -- Harvey has banged his heels against the front of his desk. "I was thinking about starving children. Always works when I'm telling a joke." 

"*Harv*." 

"No? Maybe a little?" 

"Harv, what expression do I have --" 

"You, my best brother and baby friend -- or something like that -- are frowning with *thunderous* disapproval that I could ever take so serious a subject so lightly --" 

"*Yes* --" 

"But *that* is because you've forgotten that two-thirds of my brain is full of *all* the things the Strangler did to those poor pros just trying to feed themselves and their damned *kids* so I can wrap things up nice and tight tomorrow." 

"Oh -- Harv." 

A quick breath. "I -- yeah. I gotta laugh at a few things here and there, big guy."

That's kinda my whole philosophy. 

Your philosophy involves a great deal more penile stimulation than that -- 

Brucie, baby, just what are you expecting us to feed to those starving kids? 

Bruce fights back a cough. "I -- of course, Harv." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes." 

"Ah, get on my case, anyway. I love it even more than I love Gilda thinking I'm art." 

Bruce smiles and closes his eyes again -- 

And this time his senses are filled with many of his memories of Harvey's hugs -- 

And shoulder-clasps -- 

And forearm-clasps -- 

And forehead kisses -- 

"I love you, Harv." 

"Can you feel me smiling, big guy?" 

"Yes --" 

"Good. I love you, too. Call her!"

"I will --" 

And Harvey hangs up. 

Bruce brings the receiver back to the base and prepares to work his legs -- 

No. 

He brings the receiver *with* him down the half-flight of stairs to his small therapy area. There's a massage table for those times when Alfred insists that he needs it; a small sauna; several cabinets full of equipment designed to help one recover from mild to moderate strains, breaks, and tears; the Jacuzzi -- nothing especially incriminating. 

Being the brother of a known physical fitness enthusiast allows him to keep a gymnasium *above* ground, as well, and Bruce has come to enjoy the sensation of late afternoon sunlight on his skin. It almost seems to *ease* his scars -- 

Though not the one Selina left on his thigh. 

That's not the scar you're thinking of. 

She said -- 

A lot of things. It's still not time to call her. 

Bruce frowns and tests the water in the Jacuzzi -- Alfred had, in fact, gotten it ready for him. It's perfect. 

Look -- don't start not trusting me, Bruce. 

You don't want us to call her, at all, Fox. 

No, I don't. But -- it's not like either of us are the type not to recognize our weaknesses. I'm the part of you which *wants* to lash out when hurt. 

Bruce frowns more deeply. That's not especially heroic -- 

But it's useful when someone wants to beat me to death. 

That's not the sort of hurt -- 

Brucie. 

It *isn't*. 

You weren't all that good at distinctions like that when you were *eight*, the Fox says, and gives Bruce an image of himself leaping about his bedroom in the manor with a broom taking the place of Zorro's sword. His younger self's expression is almost *dark* with concentration, and he is muttering... something. 

Bruce attempts to listen more carefully -- 

("Taste my *steel*, evil-doer! Only. Only this is wood. Hm. I shall have to ask Father for something better, once I've trained.") 

And his younger self goes back to stabbing and slashing at the air. 

Bruce can't help wanting to correct the boy's form -- 

Bruce. 

Yes? 

Do *not* separate us any more than we already are. 

I wasn't -- hm. 

Yeah. Still... it would be nice to have a partner. 

Bruce blinks and steps into the Jacuzzi. Not someone that young -- 

No! God, no. But -- someone like Dinah. Someone we could teach -- and who could teach *us*. 

Bruce fills their mind with an image of them massaging Dinah's long, powerful legs after a particularly difficult night -- 

And her hands are at least as tough as Alfred's -- 

Yes. Yes. Bruce looks at the receiver and consults his time sense -- 

She's almost certainly still at the shop, and Bruce's address book -- 

Her number is five-five-five-thirty-seven-eighteen. 

Thank you, Fox, but -- are our *memories* separate now? 

Not really. You just *assumed* you wouldn't have memorized that.

Oh. Hm. Why *did* I -- 

You memorize pretty much everything you can, Brucie. 

Bruce *wants* to protest that -- 

But you *know* better. Seriously, it comes in handy all the time. Just -- more for me than for you. Usually. 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. Holidays and other special occasions are nearly the only times when their prodigious memory comes in handy for *him*. 

I wouldn't say that. You use it to remember items of protocol, and the names of people we loathe who are nonetheless important to the company or the Foundation -- things like that. You're just getting thrown -- heh. *We're* just getting thrown by all the new people in our lives. 

Only two -- 

Lex is new, too. 

But -- 

Lex is... we never knew. 

We... didn't dare to hope. 

We *wondered* -- 

But we didn't know. Bruce nods to himself. That makes sense. He dials -- 

Waits for *three* rings -- 

"Serenity Flowers, how may we help you?" 

Bruce smiles. "You sound... cheerful." 

"Bruce! Hi -- oh. I -- I'm full of coffee. Just -- this new shop opened up right next door to my apartment building." 

On Chimera Street... "Is it very good?" 

Dinah sighs -- and it becomes a giggle. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Yes?" 

"You -- I'm talking to Bruce Wayne! Again! Oh, God, I'm sorry." 

"It's... all right?" 

"This is where I admit to checking you and your brother out on those society pages, I think." 

"Harvey *is* very handsome --" 

"Did you ever... uh. Heh. Never mind." 

God, I like her more and more. 

Indeed -- 

Stop that. 

Hm. Bruce crosses his legs at the ankle under the water. "Dinah, I have my doubts that anything you could say would be worse than what we've heard --" 

"It's just that it's *different* when you're not being -- the other guy, and I'm not being the other *me*." 

"Is it?" 

"*Yes*! But only to the parts of me which fantasize about swimming through piles of money." 

Bruce laughs. "It's not especially sanitary --" 

"Have you actually *tried* that?" 

"Well... no --" 

"Then how would you *know*?" 

"Have you ever looked at a ten dollar bill under a scanning electron microscope?" 

"You -- no. No, I *haven't*. Wait, are you secretly a geek, *too*?" 

"I've always found the idea of pocket protectors quite reasonable --" 

Dinah snorts -- perhaps painfully, considering the intensity. "Oh, *God* -- okay, okay. Before you judge me?" 

"Yes?" 

"I asked for a *sample* of their coffee and they gave me fourteen tiny cups featuring *every* blend they'd already had made at eight this morning. Now, they were tiny -- no more than three ounces each --" 

"You drank all of them?" 

"They were *amazing*, Bruce -- wait a sec," she says, and puts the receiver down so that she can have a brief conversation with a customer buying an African violet for his mother and a bouquet of roses for his girlfriend. 

It begs the question of what sort of gift would be appropriate for a *florist* -- 

Perhaps she has a pet? 

Or...

We could always get her chocolate-covered coffee beans. 

"Okay, I'm back." 

"Do you like chocolate? Other sweets?" 

"Brownies. Brownies, brownies, brownies -- and cake." 

"Any particular --" 

"*Chocolate*. Or, well. I like strawberry shortcake, too." 

"Yes?" 

"But it's -- cheating. At dessert, I mean. There's too much fruit." 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind." 

"*Bruce* -- how was Luthor?" 

"Exquisite." 

"You did *not*!" 

Bruce laughs softly. "I'm surprised Kent didn't tell you." 

"Clark *knows*? And hasn't been -- you know, all *Clark* at you?" 

"Lex had... let's call it a project --" 

"He *always* has *projects*!" 

"Very true. But he needs our -- mine and Kent's -- help for this one. In return for it, he has made... concessions." 

"And so have *you*! Or -- uh. Okay, what's he like!" 

The Fox rises and grins. "You mean in the sack?" 

"Yes! He's so -- so damned *superior* all the time --" 

"He sucks a *mean* dick, gorgeous." 

Dinah gasps. "No *way*!" 

"Mm-hmm. His mouth is --" 

"I've *seen* it! He's always *scowling* or *sneering* or *fake*-smiling --" 

"Not with *me*," the Fox says, and laughs as he pulls back for Bruce's sake -- "Or, to be more accurate, not with me." 

"God, you're acting like he's a good *catch* or something!" 

"To be honest... I care about him deeply. Specifically about the side of him he almost never shows to anyone save his exceedingly frightening bodyguards --" 

"Clark says they're both *psycho*!" 

"There are three of them now, actually. The second one is far more sociopathic than psychopathic, though. She is, for all intents and purposes, emotionally blind. The FBI's Behavioral Science Unit might refer to her as a 'devoid.'" 

"Eugh. I'm shuddering over here. You say *they* get his softer side?" 

The Fox licks Bruce's lips. "Sometimes that side is *awfully* hard --" 

And Dinah giggles again. "Stop that!" 

"Are you sure...?" 

"F-- oh, God, whoops." 

"Careful, *careful*, gorgeous. You don't want Daddy to have to *spank*." 

Alfred stops dead in the doorway and stares at him. 

Bruce mouths 'Dinah' while Dinah giggles -- 

She truly has a *wonderful* giggle -- 

And Alfred sets the lunch tray down rather far away from the Jacuzzi, pulls a small pill bottle from his pocket, and dry-swallows something before picking the tray up and bringing it closer. 

Bruce frowns. "Just a moment, Dinah --" 

"Sure!" 

Bruce covers the receiver. "Alfred, are you ill?" 

"That is quite an *excellent* question, Master Bruce, and I assure you that I will spend a *great* deal of time considering it. For now, there is your lunch --" 

"But -- "

"Sir." 

"Alfred, what *medication* did you just --" 

"A -- mild -- tranquilizer, sir. I'm afraid the recent stresses have been affecting my equilibrium." 

Bruce feels his heart seize -- "Alfred, no, I'm so sorry --" 

Alfred holds up a hand. "Worry *not*, Master Bruce. I was fully aware of the consequences of being your valet when I requested this position." 

It had been more of a polite *demand* -- 

And Alfred had -- somehow -- *known* of his plans -- 

"But --" 

"But *nothing*, sir. All will be well -- and I do believe I already feel much better," Alfred says, smiling thoughtfully. "Well. Dr. Thompkins did describe these pills as 'fast-acting.'" 

"Alfred, I -- I'm very worried." 

Alfred pats the top of Bruce's head with a gloved hand. "Truly, Master Bruce, all will be well. However, for the future, perhaps you will devise some sort of sign which will warn me that you're speaking on the telephone with... your friends." 

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Alfred. I'll do that right --" 

"You *will* continue to soak -- and to speak with Miss Lance. Your lunch today is made up of simple sandwiches and a light soup -- all of which can be consumed while you remain *precisely* where you are." 

"I -- yes, Alfred." 

"Very good, sir," Alfred says, inclining his head before walking out. 

Bruce watches him go -- 

Do you think we're making *him* crazy? 

I hope not. 

He's always seemed so *stable*. 

Yes, that -- 

I wonder if he needed my sexuality to be more... theoretical. And theatrical. 

Bruce considers that -- and catches himself stroking the telephone somewhat sensuously. 

We'll save that thought for later, maybe. Talk to Dinah. 

Yes. Bruce lifts the receiver to his ear. "Dinah? Are you still there?" 

"Yep! What happened?" 

"I was worried about my man about the house. He was taking... an unfamiliar medication." 

"Oh, no! Is he all right?" 

"He *says* he is, but I'll be keeping a closer eye on him just the same. He works very hard." 

Dinah hums. "Because you don't know how to take care of yourself...?" 

Selina -- 

No, Bruce. Not right now. 

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment. "I assure you, Dinah, I almost never came close to death due to my own crippling incompetence during my travels." 

"'Almost'...?" 

Well. Bruce smiles. "There *was* that incident with the electric teakettle." 

"Uh, huh. And that's it?" 

"There was also an incident in a certain laundromat... something about the improper use of a spin cycle --" 

Dinah *chortles*. Or -- perhaps that was a guffaw. "You don't even *have* those parts!" 

The Fox grins and *reaches* -- "Everybody likes to play pretend *sometimes*, gorgeous." 

"You? Are *way* too huge to play *that* game." 

"Aw, that's a *shame*. I was hoping we could be *twins*..." 

*That* was definitely a guffaw -- "You'd have to shave, you know." 

"But I thought you didn't *like* --" 

"I *don't*!" 

The Fox stretches a little -- 

Kicks up out of the water and points his toes -- 

"Don't be so *closed-minded*, gorgeous. There are all *kinds* of games we could play..." 

"When I was ten? Ted let me curl his hair to protest my mother's insistence on shoving me in dresses." 

The Fox blinks. "Uh. I... have never actually had that fantasy. Hunh. How did he look?" 

"Like the face of my *nightmares*, F-- *damn* --" 

"Haaa. Why don't you bend over right at that nice, big counter, Dinah?" 

"Oh -- you --" She lowers her voice -- "There's someone *here*!" 

"Describe them. Whisper." the Fox says, and grips himself -- 

"Nnh. Uh. It's just a woman --" 

"Tall?" 

"Yeah. Taller than me by a few inches. Thin. Youngish." 

"Thirties...?" 

"Nn... maybe. She has. Her hands are bigger than Diana's." 

The Fox rubs the head of his dick with his thumb. "Bend over." 

"But --" 

"Do it, gorgeous. Or else." 

"Or else *what* --" 

"Or else I *don't* fuck you so hard you cry a little, next time." 

Dinah pants -- 

Whimpers -- 

"Okay. Okay, I'm bending. How long --" 

"Until I *say* you can move." 

"*Bruce* --" 

"No, sweetness. Just me," and Bruce stands up out of the water and moves to the -- sheeted -- massage table. "I'm getting myself *nice* and hard for you -- least you can do is remember my name." 

"I *do* -- I mean -- you know what I *mean* --" 

"She's behind you, isn't she." 

"*Yes*. And -- I think she's looking this way --" 

"You're looking for your contact lens, gorgeous." 

Dinah sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay, I can --" 

"Spread your legs." 

"What --" 

"Spread. Your. Legs," and the Fox picks up the bottle of massage oil -- 

"You -- I did it --" 

"Good girl. Such a -- mm. Such a good girl," the Fox says, and pours the oil directly on his dick. 

He wouldn't want Dinah to try licking this up, but -- 

Maybe in her tight, *tight* little ass... "Walk around. Don't unbend." 

"You -- you're so --" 

"Are you doing it?" 

"*No* --" 

"Then I'm gonna have to slap you with my dick, now won't I?" 

Dinah *growls*. 

The Fox raises an eyebrow. "Got somethin' to say, gorgeous...?" 

"I don't -- not that." 

"Are you --" 

"I'm sure. I'm -- maybe. My nipples are sensitive. Very --" 

"I'll bite them. For both of us." 

"Oh, God. If you make me soak my damned jeans --" 

"Walk around. Really *look* for that lens." 

Dinah pants twice -- "I'm doing it. I -- I'm giving myself such a damned *melvin* in this position --" 

"Do you like it?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I --" 

"Excuse me, Miss? Did you drop something?" The woman's voice is low and somewhat throaty -- and she sounds as if she genuinely wants to help. 

"Tell her you found it." 

"Oh! Yes, but I found it, thanks!" 

"Wave your empty fingers." 

"See?" 

The Fox licks his lips. "Go to the bathroom and fuck yourself, Dinah." 

"I... I..." 

"Are you all right, Miss?" 

Another pant. "I am! Except not. Uh -- excuse me!" 

And Dinah's pace is even and *quick* on -- 

It would be tile. Almost certainly good quality stone, judging by the sound of her footfalls -- 

"You are *so* damned lucky I'm a perv, Fox." 

"You know, I was *just* thinking the same thing, gorgeous. Hurry up and get your pants down." 

"I have to get in the *stall* --" 

"No," the Fox says, and squeezes himself hard. Hard enough to make himself sigh. "Sit on the counter between the sinks." 

"What -- have you been *in* here?" 

"No, but the shops on that block all have the same basic layout," Bruce says -- 

And the Fox pushes him down -- 

"Get up there." 

"Fox, please --" 

"*Do* it, gorgeous. Or you know what you'll get." 

Dinah's moan echoes -- yeah, the bathroom is tiled, too. Ceramic, probably -- 

"*Quickly*." 

"*Fuck*," she says, and there's the sound of a zipper being lowered -- 

A brief grunt -- 

"Okay, I'm up --" 

"No panties?" 

"I'm out of clean ones --" 

"Spread those lips, gorgeous." 

Dinah moans again. "You're gonna eat me out for an *hour* for this --" 

Bruce groans in the Fox's chest -- 

And the Fox licks his lips. "We'll just see about that. *In*." 

"I'm not -- uh. Hell," she says, and giggles -- 

And that's a *little* strange -- oh. The Fox grins and starts to stroke himself. "You didn't think you were that wet." 

"I would've *sworn* I wasn't -- fuck. How many fingers?" 

"Just two. For now. Here," the Fox says, and brings the receiver down so that Dinah can hear every *nuance* of the rhythm he's using for his dick -- 

She's beautiful like this -- 

So -- so *good*. 

So... intriguingly obedient -- 

Fuck *yes*, and the Fox lifts the receiver again. "You hear that?" 

"You sound. You sound like you're trying to do this *fast*."

The Fox rumbles a little, squeezes himself -- "That's the rhythm you're gonna do yourself with, gorgeous. Starting *right* now." 

"*Fuck*, that -- I --" 

"*Talk*." 

Dinah squeaks -- 

Curses -- 

"I never -- I never do it like that --" 

"You're doing it like that *now*." 

"Ohn -- Fox --" 

"That's how I'm fucking you, Dinah." 

"So -- so *hard* --" 

"That's how you'll know it's *me* when I creep into your bedroom one night --" 

"*Fuck* --" 

"When I peel your sheets back and tie you down --" 

"Hnh -- *hnh* --" 

"When I spread you *good* and wide... and tongue-fuck you for an hour." 

"No, no, too much --" 

"Until you're begging -- begging for it, gorgeous --" 

Dinah laughs breathlessly -- "That won't even take five *minutes* --" 

"Too bad, gorgeous. You'll be on *my* time then." 

"Fox -- fuck, I can't stop *clenching* --" 

The Fox growls and strokes himself harder -- "I'm pounding into you." 

"*Fox* --" 

"I'm -- mmn. Do you feel it, gorgeous?" 

"I do -- oh, fuck, I *do* --" 

"Give yourself another finger." 

"Oh -- *ohn* --" And then Dinah growls and *pants* out cries, louder and louder until there can't possibly be *any* deniability left -- 

"That's it. That's -- you're *perfect* --" 

Dinah whimpers and growls again -- 

*Again* -- 

"Oh, baby, I'm gonna fuck you so hard," the Fox says, and means it with all of himself. He -- "I'm gonna do you from the back --" 

"Fuck --" 

"Get you on your hands and knees --" 

"Fox, oh --" 

"Make you... make you *crawl* for my dick," and the Fox growls *again*, needs -- "Make you *beg* --" 

"Please --" 

"More. *Louder* --" 

"*Please*, Fox --" 

The Fox groans then, grunts and jerks himself faster, harder -- 

Why had he poured on so much *oil*? This needs *friction* -- 

She seems -- I would like to *hear* her taking herself. 

Oh. Oh, yeah -- "Bring the phone down, Dinah. Right down to your pretty little kitty. For -- thirty seconds." 

Dinah whimpers again -- and does it. The noise here is *unmistakably* wet. 

So... perhaps this is... 

Dirty, this is *dirty*, Bruce -- 

She sounds -- perhaps there wouldn't *be* friction -- 

The Fox grunts and *shudders* -- 

The receiver falls -- 

"C'mon, pick it -- " 

"Here, I'm here --" 

"Fuck yourself *harder*, baby --" 

"Oh, *Fox* -- oh -- ow, Jesus --" 

"Hurts." 

"*Yes*, I -- I fucked myself too hard last night --" 

"Shoulda waited for me, pretty baby --" 

"Nngh -- fuck -- push my head into the pillow --" 

"My hand on the back of your neck --" 

"My head, my *head* --" 

"Want you *loud*, gorgeous --" 

Dinah cries out -- 

"Like that, like *that* --" 

"Fox --" 

"*Yell* --" 

"More, tell me --" 

"I'd shove my tongue up your ass --" 

"*Hnh* -- Ted, he --" 

"He liked doing that to you?" 

"*Yes* --" 

"I like it, too, gorgeous. I like it -- *nnh*. My dick wants you *bad* --" 

"You're so -- different --" 

"I told you -- we can play *all* kinds of games. *Harder*." 

She shouts -- 

She cries out loud enough that the echo is painful even over the phone -- 

"*Now* I've got you on -- on your *back* -- " 

"*Please*!" 

"I've got my hand on your *throat* --" 

"Oh -- oh, *Fox* --" 

"I'm squeezing, Dinah. I'm holding you *down* with my hand on your throat and my -- my dick so far up your pussy you *can't* move --" 

"*Ahn* --!" 

And then she's crying out over and over again -- 

*Now*, Fox -- 

And Bruce fills his mind with the sense memory of Dinah's clenches -- 

With the scent of her sweat and other -- other *juices* -- 

Oh, *yeah* -- 

Yes, *please* -- 

And the Fox is *aware* of the sounds Dinah makes as she pants herself back *to* herself, but not as much as he's aware of the pleasure, the *heat* as he spurts like -- 

God, like it's going out of *style* -- 

Bruce hums inside him and starts to push -- 

And the Fox laughs himself down and down and -- 

Bruce sighs -- and sucks his fingers. 

"Oh, *Jesus*, I *love* watching men suck up their own come." 

Bruce hums. "Noted." 

"'Noted,' hunh? Feeling -- God, I don't know if I should ask you if you're feeling better or *not*." 

Bruce laughs softly. "I definitely am. How do *you* feel?" 

Dinah sighs and grunts -- "Blown out? God, you *really* know how to talk to a girl, Bruce." 

"Some of me does --" 

Dinah snickers. "Oh, man. Stop that! Of course, *most* of us try to make our alter egos *more* respectable than how we really are." 

The Fox rises growls. "You certainly gave me a respectable hard-on, gorgeous." 

Dinah giggles -- and the water comes on. "Here's where we hope this berry-smelling soap can actually *prevail* against my funk. Damn, why don't I have softer towels in here?" 

Bruce blinks. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question --" 

"Hmph. Fat lot of good you are," she says -- and then giggles again. "Hey, wanna meet up tonight? Do the hell out of the town?" 

"I'm scheduled for a meet-up with... certain officials --" 

"Ooh..." 

"But we can meet after that, if you'd like." 

"*Absolutely*, Brucie -- wait, do you actually *like* that nickname?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I used to be more fond of it, but... it has some painful associations." 

"What does your incredibly, incredibly, *ridiculously* hot brother call you?" 

"'Big guy,' mostly --" 

"Heh! In bed...?" 

Bruce smiles. "Not recently." 

Dinah cackles. "He's a good guy, though, right?" 

"He was the first friend I ever made. He is, in all ways, a wonderful man." 

That gets a hum. "So -- did you have a *reason* to call today?" 

"Other than wanting to hear your voice?" 

"Bruce." 

Bruce hums in his turn. "Harvey reminded me that the circus is going to be in town this weekend."

"What? Really?" 

"A small, family circus... though one where the acrobats are quite highly rated. Would you... could I interest you in attending with me?" 

"What, like, a *date*?" 

Bruce uses a towel to wipe off the excess oil, tucks it in the hamper, and moves to get back in the Jacuzzi. "Would you like it to be?" 

"I... ah. Hm. To be honest? Not if it's a date-date." 

Bruce blinks -- 

She means she doesn't want anything serious. Probably. 

Hm. "Do you mean... that you don't want to start anything more romantically serious with me?" 

"Pretty much, yeah. I mean -- don't get me wrong, Bruce, you're *tons* of fun, but I'm so not getting into *anything* heavy right now." 

Good call, Fox. 

The Fox offers an image of himself buffing his fingernails on his shirt. 

You're welcome. "That's... entirely fair, Dinah." 

"Yeah?" 

Bruce smiles. "Yes. It's my hope... well, I'd like to be your very good friend." 

"Mmm, I..." The water shuts off and there's the somewhat alarming sound of a crank-action paper towel dispenser. "This is gonna suck." 

"Perhaps the toilet paper would be better?" 

"Ugh, no, you can see the *wood chips* in it." 

"I... is there a reason why you chose --" 

"Because it *didn't* cost a fortune -- yowch! You get what you pay for." 

"If... if there's any trouble --" 

"No, no, the shop is doing -- yeegh -- doing fine. It's just that I was trying to be *economical* -- oh, ow, *damn* it -- and I totally didn't factor in 'phone sex with Bruce Wayne' to my plans." 

The Fox spritzes the imaginary Lex sitting opposite to him in the Jacuzzi with water. "So few people *do*." 

Dinah snorts -- 

"It's almost *criminal*, really." 

"Somebody really ought to do something about -- *gyah* -- okay, no, I'm clean enough. There's enough flower stink out there that maybe people will think I've just ordered in *special* orchids." 

Bruce laughs softly. "There are certain floral aspects to your --" 

"Don't say it." 

"Hmm. If you're sure." 

"Oh, I'm sure all right," Dinah says, and washes her hands once more. "Okay, time to get back out there before someone steals me blind and I have to pretend to be a civilian *anyway*." 

"As you say. But --" 

"Yeah, you can take me to the circus. Maybe the acrobats will be as good as *you* are and I can build up more impossible kinks." 

"I think we've proven that there's a certain degree of possibility between us, Dinah." 

Dinah giggles and pushes open the door. "Yeah, I -- holy crap, there are, like, nine hundred people here. Uh. I think I gotta hang up now." 

"One question -- is the helpful woman still there?" 

"*Yes*," Dinah whispers, "and she's looking me over like a *meal* -- heh. I'll get her number. Just in case." 

"Very wise --" 

"Bye, Bruce! See you tonight!" 

"Have a wonderful day," Bruce says, and listens to the clamor of the shop build in the moments before Dinah hangs up. 

Then he sinks down until only his head is out of the water, and closes his eyes. 

We have to find *every possible way* to not fuck this up. 

Agreed. 

She *likes* us. 

You more than me. 

Eh, I'm more exciting. 

Very true. 

I'm thinking -- if she's anything like her mother? She'll grow out of liking me more. 

That would be a terrible shame, I think. 

The Fox turns their head so they can look at their half-hard penis through the bubbles -- yeah, it would be. 

Do you think we *should* break into her apartment someday? 

Hell, yes. She'd love it. 

Then -- 

Not right away. And also -- also this is something that probably wouldn't work with most women. 

Bruce smiles. Meaning it's something else the Fox can do to horrify powerful men...?

The Fox is broadly, *brightly* pleased within him -- 

I'll take that as a yes.

You do that. Let's meditate. 

Yes.


	14. Chapter 14

Jim Gordon is standing at what may be the precise mathematical center of Central's roof. 

He's almost certainly doing this because of the two occasions on which the Fox had announced his presence by swinging in at a high enough speed to allow him to *lift* Jim and fly him for a handful of feet before landing on the other side of the roof. 

It's much harder to do that when Jim doesn't stand at the edge. Not *impossible*, but -- 

Way too dangerous. 

Indeed -- 

No. 

Hm. 

Bruce watches Jim through his scope and notes several of his physical tics. Here, the way he reaches for his shirt pocket and the cigarettes which are no longer there. 

Here, the way he reaches for the inner left pocket of his -- summer weight -- trench coat, where he keeps his cigars. 

Here, the way he *starts* to pull one out -- but stops. 

Jim never wishes to ruin his night vision when -- 

Jim tenses slightly, hand moving automatically to his holster -- 

Bruce prepares to leap -- 

And Harvey steps out onto the roof, very clearly apologizing for being late before scanning the skies.

Now.

Yes. 

Bruce leaps from the roof of the Traynor building -- 

And Jim tracks him almost before Bruce's grapple bites into the old brick of the Haines building. Part of it is the fact that there are only so many reasonably safe approaches to the roof of Central -- 

But part of it's the fact that he's just. That. *Good*, the Fox thinks, and smiles into the teeth of the wind as he releases the line and tumbles to his landing -- 

At Jim's feet. "Jimmy, baby --" 

"Shut up, Fox." 

"Ooh, so *grim* --" 

"Fox, seriously, you're *never* making any time with Jim," Harvey says, and steps between them. "Give it *up*." 

Fox smiles broadly and looks Harvey up and down -- 

Bruce tries not to enjoy it *terribly* -- 

I'll be good. Really. And the Fox stands straight for just a moment -- 

Before dipping Harvey over his arm. 

"Hey, easy!" 

"Jealous, Harvey...? You know there's *more* than enough of me to go *around*, sugar daddy." 

Jim sighs and pulls out a cigar. "Just tell me when I can shoot him, Harvey." 

Harvey looks *appalled* -- 

The Fox waggles his eyebrows -- 

And then Harvey snorts and shakes his head. "So it's my turn for this kinda treatment, Fox? Does that mean I'm movin' up the world?" 

"I've *always* thought you were a real go-getter --"

"Let's get on with this," Jim says, and spits the end of his cigar over the edge of the roof. "*Before* I get any older." 

"*Jimmy* --" 

"Fox, so help me --" 

The Fox holds up a hand to Jim and licks his lips for Harvey. Slowly. 

Harvey snickers hard enough that the Fox has to steady him for a moment after standing him up -- 

Which ruins the opportunity to pinch Jim's ass. 

Possibly for the best. 

Maybe. No harm in watching it walk away, though -- 

Harvey smacks the back of the Fox's head. "*Focus*, guy. What've you got for us?" 

"Well, *other* than my *undying* affection --" 

"Screw up," Jim says, and looks back over his shoulder. "Just once. Just. Once." 

The Fox makes a moue -- 

"Easy, Jim, *easy*," Harvey says. "You know he's just playing around." 

"This isn't a *game*, Harvey. If you're having trouble remembering that, then maybe you shouldn't *be* here." 

Harvey rears back -- 

That was a bit more severe than his usual, Fox. Tread lightly. 

Just so. The Fox raises his hands. "Maybe Jim should tell *us* what --" 

"Dirty cops," Jim says, pulling the cigar from his mouth and staring at it as if it had personally offended him.

"Jesus, *more*?" 

The Fox growls. "Working with Carlyle?" 

Jim squeezes his eyes shut behind his glasses -- and tosses the cigar over the side of the roof. "I don't know, yet. I don't even know how *many* we're talking about." 

Harvey moves to cup Jim's shoulder -- and Jim shakes his head. Harvey nods and raises his own hands. "Okay, Jim, tell us *where* --" 

"The Fifteenth," Jim says -- 

"Where you started in this town," the Fox says, and fights the urge to say it more excitingly -- 

Harvey flashes him a look which suggests he'd said it *too* dully. 

Blow him a kiss -- 

Yes, I do believe I *will*, just as soon as Jim turns around -- there. 

Harvey pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes a finger at him before turning back to Jim. "Where's the intel coming from?" 

Jim reaches for the cigarettes which aren't in his pocket -- 

The cigars which are -- 

Jim clenches his *fist* -- "A rook." 

"Whoa, what?" 

"A goddamned *rookie* so scared out of her mind -- so *disgusted* -- that she broke the chain of command to come directly to me." 

The Fox and Harvey wince *together* -- 

And Jim grunts. "I see the two of you aren't *completely* ignorant. There's no way this kid will have anything like a career --" 

"Jimmy, you're saying there's no way to keep her testimony out of it?" 

"That's *exactly* what I'm saying, Fox, because they're knocking off independent dealers and selling their stashes to the *established* gangs. The rook -- her name's Montoya, by the way -- *gently* sounded out Lieutenant Torn about *some* of the shit she'd seen and been forced to participate in and got her *life* threatened." 

"*Torn*? That guy's wife is tight with my *mother*!" 

Isabel Torn, chairwoman of the Police Athletic League -- 

Yeah, but the Fox shouldn't know that. 

Are you sure? 

I'm sure, all right. I wouldn't know Isabel Torn if her mouth fell on my dick -- and we weren't expecting another *nest*. 

No, we were not.

The Fox watches and listens to Harvey worriedly interrogate Jim for the details. The bodies of the independent dealers who hadn't surrendered their stashes quickly enough -- or who had just been foolish enough to threaten to open their mouths in other precincts -- were all, apparently, processed as John Does through the fifteenth precinct morgue. Specifically, as *homeless* John Does who had died of natural causes. 

The few dealers who had been reported missing by friends or loved ones had had their cases buried by Missing Persons -- but there isn't any way to tell whether that had been anything more sinister than the shoddy police-work done by a perennially overworked department with little enough time to spare for missing innocent *children*. Known adult drug dealers rate very, very low in their hierarchy. 

Several rookies had applied for transfer out of the fifteenth over the past two years -- more than usual for any precinct -- but Jim hadn't been paying attention. It had seemed *reasonable*, because Sergeant Heath was legendary for his strictness and attention to detail. 

Sergeant Heath had been the one who shot a dealer in front of Montoya. 

Sergeant Heath had been one of the men who taught Jim what he knew about -- but. 

"Don't sell yourself *short*, Jimmy. You've known exactly how to handle yourself since you *got* to this town." 

"Fox, I *don't* need you blowing *smoke* up my ass!" 

"And I don't need *you* blowing smoke in my *face*, Jimmy, but compromise is the *heart* of love --" 

Jim growls and gets in the Fox's face, jabbing two fingers at his chest. "What are you planning to do about this?" 

"Well --" 

"No, Fox. *Don't* fuck around anymore. I need *ideas*." 

The Fox inclines his head. "One, Montoya in a safe house --" 

"That leaves her *family* in danger --" 

"No, Jim," Harvey says, and starts to pace. "Let *me* take care of that. It's not like I'm short on cash." 

Jim winces. "We can't -- we can't do anything through channels until we're ready to jump in with both feet." 

"Agreed," the Fox says. "Two, give me a *good* look at the personnel files of everyone working the Fifteenth. I've got a partner now -- we can look into them and try to separate the wheat from the chaff." 

Harvey pauses to frown at him. "Partner?" 

The Fox grins at him. "There's a new Black Canary on the street, Harvey, and let me just say -- she is *choice*." 

Harvey snorts. "Yeah, but can she kick as much ass as the original?" 

"I'd show you my bruises, but Jimmy might get a little too *distracted* --" 

"What. *Else*, Fox?" 

"Don't write the rookie off so fast --" 

"She'll always be a snitch as far as *most* of the force is concerned. No matter *how* much I build her up after all this is put to bed. If you *don't* know that by now, then I don't know what the hell you think you're doing here." 

True, but, if there is no place for the honorable -- 

Then a place must be *made*, the Fox says, and switches his hips a little. "Jimmy, you're not just foreign-born, mid-level brass, anymore. You're the *Commissioner* --" 

"And I *can't* turn a patrolwoman into brass no matter *how* good she is --" 

"But you can make a brand *new* unit for her, hot stuff --" 

"Are you *high*? No, you'd make more sense then," Jim says, and chews on his mustache for a long moment while staring at the grit on the roof. His voice had lost a great deal of its belligerence, though -- 

And Harvey gives him a knowing look which he returns. 

Jim is thinking, and that never, ever takes especially long -- 

"All these damned costumed yahoos -- offense intended..." 

"I'm hardly *brutish* --" 

Harvey smacks him again. 

It's almost as though he *likes* us sexually harassing him. 

Well, there *is* a history of just that. 

Hm. I do think we should keep me hidden around him as much as is possible. Even more than before, I mean. 

Agreed. 

"And it's not..." Jim walks several feet away and kicks the grit into a different pattern. "Metropolis. That -- what *is* her name?" Jim looks up and glares at him. "Gotham can't *afford* an SCU, Fox." 

Harvey sucks in a breath. "But we can damned well do something with MCU other than track counterfeiters and kidnappers, Jim." 

Jim chews on his mustache again, but never stops glaring at the Fox. "It's what you want, isn't it. A bunch of cops who *answer* to you." 

"Not even a *little*, Jimmy. Some of us weren't *made* for management --" 

"Then what *do* you want out of this, Fox? And don't tell me it's nothing --" 

"I want what I *always* want, Jimmy. I want this city to *pop* with something other than gunfire. I want this city to *sing* with something other than screams. And I want to be a part of *making* it do just that." 

Jim glares at him for another long moment. 

The Fox raises his eyebrows -- and twiddles his fingers. 

And Jim squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment. When he opens them, there's a light in them which speaks of both exasperation and *pained* amusement. "You don't think you're making it harder for gay *civilians*?" 

The Fox smiles. "Bigots will use *any* excuse --" 

"Then why *give* them another one, Fox?" 

The Fox hums and scratches lightly at his mustache. "It's who I am, Jimmy. And who I will *always* be -- but you shouldn't take that as anything but a reason to better protect those citizens who *can't* do the things I do --" 

"This is what I'm *saying* --" 

"Jimmy. Honey. Babycakes. *Some* of us spent the seventies plotting and scheming for the day when we *could* let it all hang out... as it were," the Fox says, and winks at Jim. Harvey's quiet -- 

But when the Fox looks, Harvey is staring into the distance with a question in his eyes. 

Hm. 

What is it, do you think, Bruce? 

I can't be sure... but it's something serious. 

Yeah -- 

"Harvey? You're quiet over there," Jim says, and smiles tightly. "I was expecting a few points for my attempt to talk to Vixen here like a human being." 

Harvey blinks. "I --" 

"Daddy, where -- oh. Oh." Barbara Gordon is a tiny little redhead who walks way too quietly for her own good -- 

And, judging by the talk, an excellent librarian. 

Who cares about how good a librarian she is? Look at that *mouth*. And those pretty green eyes. And those gorgeous little tits packed tight in that sweater -- mm. And the Fox proceeds to stare overtly at just those attractions *while* bowing with a flourish. "Miss Gordon. I wasn't expecting to see *you* tonight." 

"Don't even *think* about it, Fox!" And Jim moves between the Fox and the roof access door -- 

But the Fox can see Barbara's expression over Jim's shoulder... and it's full of the kind of frank *measurement* they had seen in Dinah's eyes that first night. 

That *wonderful* night -- 

Yeah. The Fox makes sure Barbara can see the heat in his eyes as Jim does his level best to shoo her off *politely* -- 

And then he catches Harvey's hand as he reaches to smack him again, grips it, *turns* it, and bends to kiss every last one of the knuckles -- 

Too much! 

I'm just *playing*, Bruce, the Fox says, and tickles Harvey's palm before releasing him -- 

"*Jesus*, you're quick --" 

"Only *some* of the time, sugar daddy, I promise," the Fox says, glancing over to see Barbara's reaction -- 

She's gone, and Jim is leaning against the door and glaring. "Let's wrap this up, Fox." 

The Fox sighs. "Anything you say, Jimmy. We can head down to your office for the files --" 

"They're over on Greer Street, Fox, and there's no way we're getting in there tonight without raising suspicion," and Jim is clearly fuming again. "There's *nothing* *I* can do without raising suspicion." 

"Damn," Harvey says, and crosses his arms over his chest. "But we can get *IA* to pull the files and make them available. Or are we not trusting them?" 

"They let this go on under their noses for long enough for it to get *entrenched*, Harvey. I don't want to trust *anyone*... except maybe all the rooks who transferred out over the past five years. There's one who just passed the sergeant's exam. Real tub of guts, but he knows how to police..." Jim walks away to toe at the grit again. 

And Harvey sighs and smiles at him before staring up at the night. "I wonder how long before people start shooting at us *this* time." 

"I *surely* don't know, sugar daddy. Maybe we should start picking on people who aren't *armed*." 

Harvey grins. "Where's the fun in that, Foxy?" 

"Do you have any *idea* how much I shell out for black silk *alone*?" 

"Heh. You -- you're rich as hell, Fox. I know you are." 

"Is it my delightful diction that gave it away?" 

"Nah, anybody can fake that. *I* can fake that. It's your -- everything. The fact that you *can* afford fresh silk every night. The fact that you can afford enough fresh body armor that no one *smells* you coming. Those boots, too -- I know the guy who created them. They aren't cheap." 

"Sturdy, though." 

Harvey nods thoughtfully -- 

Too thoughtfully, Fox. 

Right. "Hey, sugar-daddy..." 

Harvey snorts. "What is it now, Fox?" 

The Fox gives him a long, *hot* look from behind the mask -- and the bottle-green contact lenses which always itch *just* enough to be irritating. He knows Harv can *feel* it. "What's it like bein' a Greek god?" 

"Ah, fuck you --" 

"Any Ganymedes running around out there? You can tell *me*," and the Fox flips his lenses solely to bat his lashes. 

"*Watch* it --" 

"With *pleasure* --" 

"Here's how it's going to be, Harvey, Fox," and Jim walks up to form the upper point on their triangle. "Montoya's in the safe house -- *if* she wants to go. If she doesn't, she joins Archer, Haines, Wilde, and Bullock -- that's the sergeant -- on the task force which I'll be heading *personally* to do IA's jobs for them. Bullock will get the personnel files Montoya tells him to, and a few dozen more for good measure. I'm putting out that Bullock's gout is keeping him to desk duty for the time being and that I'm having him and the others take a good look at people for a flashy new unit I'm planning. It's all busywork and everyone will act like they hate it -- because it's punishment detail that won't get them any credit. Additionally, it's only natural that it look like I'm favoring my old precinct -- and my old *friends*." 

Harvey nods. "That should work for a little while -- especially with Fox and this Canary chick asking most of the hard questions." 

"I'm not happy about that --" 

"I know you aren't, Jim, but we can't spook these assholes --" 

"Spook. I'll give them *spook*. Do you know my baby girl found my file of death threats?" 

The Fox winces -- 

"Don't *you* say a word," Jim says, and jabs his fingers at the Fox's chest. 

The Fox raises his hands. "Not a word. When can we get our hands on those files?" 

Jim grits his teeth. "I don't suppose you feel like dressing up like a man of *this* decade and showing up in my office tomorrow." 

Out of the question. 

Unfortunately, yeah. "No can do, Jimmy... but I can bring Canary here tomorrow night --" 

"Sunset, Fox. No later." 

The Fox bows -- 

"Copies for my office, Jim?" 

"Copies for your *home*, Harvey. And as of right now, you're packing." 

"What? Whoa --"

"*Every* day, from just *before* you walk out your front door to just *after* you walk back in it," Jim says, and hands Harvey his ankle gun -- a sexy little snub-nosed thirty-eight which has seen more than a little action. "You can give it back once you dig your piece out of storage."

Harvey takes it with a queasy look. "Sure you'll be fine with just *one* gun of your own, Jimmy?" 

Jim smiles sharply. "Spoken like a man who hasn't seen the business end of the scatter-gun in my car." 

"And who hopefully *never* will," Harvey says, and sighs. "Anything else before I go downstairs and get myself a decent holster?" 

"Not right now. Get out of here." 

Harvey salutes them both and goes -- 

And Jim looks the Fox over with slow, thorough attention. 

"Why, Jimmy --" 

"Stop. You're good at this. Looking right into people's lives and finding all the filth." 

The Fox raises an eyebrow. "I was trained by the best." 

"Who?" 

"Several European detectives -- and you, yourself." 

Jim lifts his chin. "What'd I tell you about blowing smoke?" 

The Fox shrugs. "You asked." 

Jim grunts. "So I did. Why aren't you doing this professionally? You're not making one red cent on the royalties from all the merchandise -- I checked." 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "You need me, Jim -- or someone else *just* like me." 

Jim narrows his eyes. "I don't recall asking Santa for a hypersexualized prancing weirdo who puts on silk to *fight*." 

"You have no *idea* how many times silk helps those kicks and punches flow right --" 

"Fox." 

Perhaps... perhaps it's time for me. 

The Fox draws back -- 

"Jim," Bruce says, and offers his own rueful smile. "I do what I must so as to never be identified. I have a family to think about, and friends. I have made enemies -- some perhaps even worse than your own. But even that's not why." 

Jim takes a deep and somewhat shaky breath. "Then what is?" 

I wanted to join Harvey --

No. 

Bruce sighs. "It's a dream I've had for a very long time --" 

"You *are* old enough to remember the early days of the JSA, but that's not it, either. Spill." 

"Jim, I... it's within me. It's something -- *someone* -- I began building at a very young age. First as a fantasy, then as someone to admire, then as... something of a companion --" 

"A what now?" 

Bruce reaches for Jim's hand -- 

"You about to pull me into a clinch?" 

"Not this time. It's only... a moment's contact." 

Jim slaps their hands together before gripping Bruce's own. "*Do* you need some kind of help, Fox?" 

"The people in my life... they've suggested just that many times over the years. I'm not so sure." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I'm happy. Because I've discovered what I want. Because now, as I approach my thirtieth birthday, I'm finally beginning to understand more -- both about myself and about the other people who inhabit this world."

"You're the one who explained that goddamned Bennett woman's psychosis to *me*, Fox." 

"Abnormal psychology is one of the many, many things I've studied to bring me to this point, Jim. That... it's all memorization, and having had the time to study the various semi-obscure --" 

"So you are rich." 

"Or so Harvey thinks." 

Jim looks at him with an eyebrow up. 

Bruce inclines his head -- and tugs his hand away. "My point was that it takes a great deal less work to learn how to go about diagnosing the psychological issues of others than it does to learn how to do the same thing for oneself." 

"I'm not so sure that's true, Fox." 

"Then -- leave it at 'it has been for me.'"

Jim nods thoughtfully and scratches at his mustache. "This is who you really are." 

Bruce offers a rueful smile. "Sometimes. But... even the Fox is capable of exaggeration for effect." 

"Heh. You ever think about how *much* trouble you're borrowing for yourself there? Given how hard it is for you to *diagnose* yourself -- and how much power your loved ones probably *don't* have over whether or not you get help." 

Alfred --

Alfred and *tranquilizers* --

Bruce sighs and stares up at the moon. The light pollution here always makes it seem far more distant than it does in the countryside. His parents had never taken them to rural areas for vacations when Bruce was a boy, and Harvey had never expressed an interest in those sorts of places when he'd joined the family -- 

It was while he was traveling to *become* that he'd learned how large the moon could seem, how close and oppressive and *strange* -- 

And how bright. And Jim is waiting for an answer. "I've... begun making friends in the larger vigilante community." 

"Christ. Whatever you do, leave those *Green* yahoos out west, please." 

The Fox laughs *with* Bruce -- and Bruce inclines his head. "While it's possible that I'll learn something about them which will make me approve of them rather more than I do now... I doubt it. Highly." 

Jim tilts his chin up. "And there are people you actually disapprove of." 

"Yes. I can't say, for sure, why they negotiate their personal lives the way they do, but..." Bruce shakes his head. 

Jim grunts and rolls a cigar between his fingers. "I *don't* need to know." 

"As you say. I... what I was saying before..." 

"Making friends." 

Bruce nods. "That, yes. The problems I have seem to be endemic to the breed --" 

"Color me shocked." 

"Hmm. Indeed. Still -- the vast majority of them negotiate their lives without much in the way of psychological difficulty --" 

"How much time do you really have to spend *watching* them?" 

Bruce smiles. "Rather more than most of them like." 

"Uh, huh. You're not gonna show this side of yourself to Harvey." 

Bruce blinks -- "I -- hadn't been planning on it --" 

"No. Don't just not plan, Fox --" 

*Whiplash* -- 

Keep it steady, Brucie. 

Yes, but -- 

"-- *he* is gonna keep asking questions -- the kinda questions I gave up on for the sake of my ulcer. I don't know whether you're okay with him knowing who and what you are and I don't care." 

Bruce -- takes a breath and turns to meet Jim's eyes. He's always been very good at sensing where the Fox's eyes are resting -- "What do you care about?" 

"Harvey. He doesn't need to know you. He doesn't need any more guns aimed at him than he already has. He's young, clean, and he's about to start a family -- and I *know* you already know that. Your secrets would just put another damned target on his back -- and you already know *that*, too." 

Had he really thought of telling -- no, he *hadn't* -- 

You really had, Brucie. 

*No* -- 

I can show you the thoughts you were having. 

But *when* -- 

I started it when I made you ask him about how he felt about me. I -- I'm sorry -- 

It's all right -- 

It's *not* -- 

"-- seriously standing here thinking of ways to *argue* with me?" 

Bruce blinks and steps back, shaking his head -- 

"I need *more* than that, Fox --" 

"You *don't* have to worry, Jimmy. I don't need a DA for a bosom buddy," the Fox says, and leers *wetly*. "*You*, now..."

"And this is what happens when someone shakes your tree," Jim says, nodding slowly and pitching the unbitten, unlit cigar over the side of the roof. "Don't fuck up, Fox." 

"I never, ever *do* --" 

"Yeah. Well -- this city needs you. Meaning *I* need you. And I'm *not* about to let a psychological meltdown on your part endanger *any* of us. *Including* you." 

Let me. 

Are you *sure*, Brucie?

Yes, Bruce says, and pushes forward again, raising his hands. "There are times when my motivations are as murky to myself as they would be to anyone else --" 

"I don't need to *hear* that --" 

"You do, I think. I am only a man, Jim --" 

"*No*, Fox, you're an *institution*. You *made* yourself one without any fucking encouragement from anyone else --" 

"And now I must perform the responsibilities I've taken for myself," Bruce says, and inclines his head. "You'll get no argument from me on that point. But just as Harvey and I allow you to lash out at your allies when you have a bad day, just as *you* and I allow Harvey to forget to carry a gun nine times out of ten --"

"So I have to allow you to slip your damned tether, Fox? I don't *think* so --" 

"Jim. I need allies as much as any other man -- and I will have them." 

Jim narrows his eyes and rears back. "What do I need to know about you and this new Canary?" 

"She's a friend... and was raised entirely by other vigilantes. She's as well-trained as anyone could ask --" 

"*Not* what I was --" 

"It's part of it, Jim," Bruce says, and steps close again. "I chose her because of her hard-won wisdom and acumen. She chose *me* because she could tell that I needed someone just like her. I. I am only a man, and while I have every intention of fulfilling my duties..." Bruce laughs softly and shakes his head. "I made a vow to this city and to the night. I *will* keep it. But it will be much, much easier to do --" 

"It's not *about* easy --" 

"-- if we are closer than we have been." 

Jim doesn't *quite* sneer, but -- 

The Fox laughs. "At *ease*, Jimmy -- I *don't* need you to cradle my weary head on your strong, manly chest --" 

"Are you *sure* about that?" 

Fox, I -- 

Yeah, yeah, you just keep our dick from twitching. And the Fox laughs easily and warmly. "You're a trip, Jimmy. I like that about you. But I *promise* that I have *way* more Mommy issues than Daddy issues." 

Jim snorts -- 

Blinks -- 

"*Don't* elaborate, Fox --" 

"Not even if you get me rip-roaring drunk. A gentleman *never* tells. But, how's this: I restrain myself from goosing you every chance I get --" 

"And I keep myself from shooting you?" 

The Fox grins. "I need a *little* more than that --" 

"I don't *care* --" 

"But you do, Jimmy. You can't *help* caring, 'cause you're a *good* man, and a *kind* man, and a *loving* man --" 

"*Christ*, Fox --" 

"Still not blowing smoke, Jimmy-boy," and the Fox grins. "You're one of the best men I have *ever* known -- and we both know how much time I've spent nosing after heroes, costumed and otherwise." 

"Fine. You *admire* me --" 

"And I like you, too. I like you a *lot*. And now? You can tell me what it'll take for you to like *me*." 

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. 

The Fox hums a little Benny Goodman -- 

"I could shoot you just for ruining that song for me, you know." 

The Fox grins a little wider -- 

And Jim blows out a breath and crosses his arms over his chest. "You're gonna push this." 

The Fox nods slowly and -- maybe -- just a little obnoxiously.

"You see this grey hair, Fox?" 

"Don't even *think* about coloring it, Jimmy --" 

"The *other* guy. *Now*." 

Bruce pushes forward. "What do you need, Jim?" 

"Other than to know you *can* do that on command? More of *you*." 

"But not around Harvey." 

"*Never* around -- you know him, don't you? In your *other* other life." 

"I know all *kinds* --" 

"*Shut* up." 

Bruce sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, ignoring the itch of the contacts yet again. "Jim..." 

"Yeah, that *is* an answer. And one I *didn't* actually want, because..." Jim sighs and looks at him hard. "Because that means I know you, too." 

"Not --" 

Jim -- shuts him up with another look. It would never *quite* work on the Fox, but -- 

But that's not who Jim wants, right now. "You know me." 

Jim starts to chew on his mustache -- 

Stops and reaches for another cigar -- 

Stops and takes his glasses off -- 

And puts them back on again. "How do you do it, Fox. How do you lie to your brother year after year and *then* try to come out and be honest with him again?" 

"It was the only way I knew how to help him... while still allowing myself to *be* myself." 

"The prancing freakjob." 

"Among other things."

"You know he's gonna want to *strangle* you for this, right? Assuming he *doesn't* just feel so betrayed he never wants to look at you again." 

Bruce -- turns away. Fox, is he -- 

He might be right. 

But -- 

It's -- it's a big lie. 

I don't -- he *likes* you -- 

And he never wanted us to lie to him. Not -- not about anything -- 

Except our feelings. 

And Bruce can feel the Fox wince --

And then he can see it, and his hair is still black, but it has a natural wave to it that Bruce's hair doesn't, and his mustache is even better than the one Bruce wears to *be* him, and -- 

And Bruce tries, very hard to work up the *ability* to pull him close, to feel -- 

Warmth, and the hardness of armor and muscle, and the tickle of hair -- 

Look out, Brucie. 

I don't -- 

Do it. 

Bruce does -- and Jim is cupping his shoulder. *Squeezing* his shoulder -- 

"-- didn't think about that. You -- how old *were* you when you started training for this?" 

"I. I began building the Fox when I was a child. Before I ever met Harvey. But it was a child's dream until Harvey began talking to me about what Gotham was truly like away from the world my parents and I had lived in." 

"And that was -- you were a teenager then. A *young* teenager." 

"I." Bruce reaches up to -- carefully -- cover Jim's hand. "I was fourteen, yes. I don't think --" He shakes his head. "I left the country as soon as I graduated from high school." 

"He said. Look at me." 

Bruce squeezes Jim's hand -- 

"Look. At. Me." 

Bruce takes a breath and does it, wanting to show his own eyes for this, show -- 

Show something true. 

The Fox's real eyes are as blue as his own -- 

And Jim's expression is hard, but not especially dark or cold. Jim -- 

"You're a good man --" 

"You already said that, Fox, and -- hell. You're a good man, too. I *know* you are, because I've had your ass watched as much as you made it *possible* to do." 

Bruce nods. It was always clear which police officers answered to Jim -- and thus which police officers he could and should slow *down* for. 

Jim blows out another breath. "Harvey's a good man, too. And he loves you -- you know how much he loves you, don't you?" 

"Yes, I --" 

"That's why it's gonna hurt him, Fox. Because you *are* his brother, and he never knew what that was like until he met you. He *told* me this -- after I got him good and drunk." 

"Rum and Cain-a-Cola --" 

"And single malt once he's too drunk to remember why it's a bad idea," Jim says, and laughs quietly before shaking his head. "Do it or don't, Fox. Don't make him guess. Don't *let* him guess. It'll go hard either way, but... you already know the psychology for this." 

"Confession is nearly always taken more positively than discovery --" 

"*I* know the psychology for it, too." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Of course. I -- yes. I think. I think I have much to consider." 

"Uh, huh. Just do us all a favor and let Harvey stay on top of his game while we're dealing with *this* threat." 

"Of course --" 

"But..." Jim sighs and squeezes Bruce's shoulder one more time before letting go and turning to look over the edge of the roof. 

"Jim...?" 

"We both know there's always gonna be another crisis, Fox. Don't we?" 

Bruce -- swallows. "I... I've built my life on that, yes." 

Jim nods slowly -- and then barks a laugh. "And here I am pretending I *haven't* -- ah, get outta here, Fox. Use your best judgment about when to tell Harvey." 

"I haven't decided --" 

"Yes, you have." 

He's right. 

Of course -- of course. Bruce swallows again. "All right --" 

"You're gonna be able to prance off this rooftop the way you pranced on?" 

The Fox lifts Jimmy into his arms -- 

"*Fox* --" 

"I'm not goosing you even a *little*, Jimmy-boy --" 

"You know what? *I'll* tell Harvey --" 

"Aw, Jimmy, don't be *cruel*. You know I'd never be mean to *you*," and the Fox spins Jimmy around a little -- 

"*Down*, Fox --" 

And then *waltzes* Jimmy around -- 

"This isn't even your *dance* --" 

"You are *so* right," the Fox says, pirouetting away from Jimmy and into a world-class *prance* -- if he does say so himself -- 

I say so, too -- 

*Thank* you, Brucie -- and the Fox blows a kiss to Jimmy -- 

And thrusts his hips a *little* -- 

And has just enough time to see Jimmy looking up to the heavens for help -- or maybe some kind of *guidance* -- before the song in his head hits the crescendo -- 

And it's time to dive backwards off the roof.


	15. Chapter 15

The Fox finds Dinah -- 

The Fox finds *Black Canary* about three blocks away from their r-point, mainly by following an admirably *neat* path of broken bodies and destruction. 

By the looks of it, she'd used her Cry to blow several gang members away from her and then proceeded to destroy them beautifully. 

No maiming, but several broken arms and dislocated knees -- not to mention all *sorts* of cuts and bruises. 

The Fox zip-strips as he goes -- 

*Maybe* kicks a few of the people who can still walk -- 

Especially the ones he recognizes from his mug shot file -- 

And the ones who spit at him -- 

And the one who was coming up behind Canary with a cinder block in his hands. "Ah-ah-ah, bully-boy. The lady's with *me*." And the Fox spares a glance for Canary as the ever-so-*violent* recidivist regroups -- 

Just in time for Canary to flash him a smile before returning her attention to the *two* men she was busy dealing with. Which -- 

The Fox drops the man with a kick to the ribs and a chop to the back of the neck. It's not the best theater, but it *does* give him time to watch Canary *work*. 

The excellence of her -- many -- kicks was entirely expected, but her upper body strength and *consummate* skill is a wonderful surprise. She's fast, flirty, and *fabulous* -- 

And the Fox would *dearly* love to fuck her positively *stupid* on top of the bodies of the men she'd just knocked unconscious with the kind of split-kick -- 

The Fox hums. "What happens when your zipper slips the tracks...?" 

Canary snorts and pulls zip-strips of her own out of the inside pockets of her jacket, trussing her targets up neatly. 

"Gonna tell me, gorgeous...?" 

"You can *guess*, Foxy. Hey, did you --" 

"They're all trussed-up and ready for the boys in blue. What were they *doing*?" 

Canary -- or possibly Dinah -- gives him a *hot* look from under her lashes. "Annoying me." 

The Fox grins *delightedly*. "That's a *capital* offense around here."

Canary snorts and points up, raising her eyebrows expectantly. 

"Anything you say, gorgeous," and she lets him pull her into his arms -- 

And Dinah -- definitely not Canary -- bites his earlobe. "You so need to go down on me tonight. I'm too raw for *anything* else." 

The Fox purrs -- and shoots his grapple for the Rice building, which will let him swing them onto the roof of the old shirtwaist factory, which Bruce's great-grandfather Ezekiel Kane had built to withstand everything from mortar fire to earthquakes. 

Bruce would say the man had interesting levels of paranoia. The Fox knows the man was crazy as a shithouse rat and twice as mean -- judging by the various issues running wild through his mother's paternal aunts and uncles. As such -- 

As such, it's perfect, just perfect when Dinah pushes out of his arms and dances back three paces before giving him the come-on.

The Fox licks his teeth as he lands -- 

Dinah begins to circle, and the color is high in her cheeks, her body is -- 

She's bleeding from a scrape along her right thigh, and her fishnets are torn -- 

The discomfort isn't touching her. *Nothing* is touching her right now -- 

But him. The Fox throws half a dozen strikes he almost never uses because they're too severe -- 

She counters all of them and comes after him with kicks -- 

She's wearing his boots. 

She's wearing -- 

Bruce pushes through and catches her ankle -- 

She yanks it free and back-flips into a kick which would make him need bridgework if he weren't fast enough to dodge -- 

To close before she regains her full balance -- 

She treats his punches like wind, smoke, silk streamers -- 

She dodges and bends, dodges and *strikes* -- 

And Bruce calls on every quietly *gripped* memory of how to spar, how to block without *hurting* -- 

She wants a little pain, Brucie -- 

She's wearing my *boots* -- 

She *likes* -- both of us. Heh. 

Bruce blocks a strike aimed at his throat and jabs for her abdomen -- 

And her Cry doesn't register as sound so much as *force*, buffeting him back -- two paces. Just enough to give her space for a spin-kick -- 

Another -- 

A heel-kick -- and Bruce chops down, bruising her through the boot and closing -- 

She's throwing strikes before he *can* close, before she even drops her leg -- 

Bruce blocks and watches her eyes, watches -- 

Her eyes are blue and clear -- 

Her face is flushed -- 

Her teeth are white and sharp -- 

Her eyes *shift* -- 

And the Fox moves Bruce to the right just as her Cry would've knocked him off his feet. 

But how does it *work*? What possible mechanism -- 

But there's no time. She's coming for him again, closing dangerously and using the steel in her boots -- 

His *boots* --

He strikes for the bruising areas on her thigh -- 

Her eyes flare -- 

And Bruce has just enough time to bend himself back under a kick which could have very well taken his left arm out of commission for some problematic length of time -- 

"Whoops --" 

"It's all right," Bruce says, and throws a light flurry for her abdomen -- 

She blocks *too* hard -- "*Yow* --" 

And it's enough time to catch her wrists, hip-check her -- 

And get his legs locked, because she is *precisely* that fast, that strong, that *knowledgeable* -- 

They go down in a tangle of bodies, wrestling for dominance, an edge, *air* -- ah. A push, not a blow, and the use of his much greater weight -- 

She whoofs out her air in a laugh -- 

There's so much *light* in her eyes -- 

And Bruce kisses her deeply, slowly -- 

As warmly as he *can* -- 

And he switches the pressure from her abdomen to her throat, reveling in the warmth of her flush, the *convulsiveness* of her shudder -- 

Yeah, fuck, *yeah* --

And then it's a matter of need and force, working his way down and down, biting her through her corset and allowing her brief *sips* of air -- 

"*Fox* --" 

"Not yet," Bruce says, and bites her mound -- 

And then the Fox catches the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down and down and -- 

"You smell *fantastic*, gorgeous..." 

"*Nnh* -- *do* it --" 

"*Absolutely*," the Fox says, and shoves his tongue deep into her pussy -- 

"Oh, God -- not --" 

"But it's what I *want*," and this position isn't the *best* for making a point -- she *could* just close her legs or strike for the back of his neck -- but... 

But sometimes it's not about making a point, at all. Sometimes -- 

Sometimes, it's about learning what a beautiful, powerful, *skilled* woman likes, what she needs, what she *fears*. And so it's necessary to release her throat so he can grip her thighs and force them wider apart -- 

She growls for him -- 

And the Fox would very much like to smell like pussy -- like *this* pussy -- *all* night, and so it's *also* perfect to nuzzle, to press and push and nibble on those furling lips -- 

She cries out -- 

She *gurgles* -- 

That's... is that normal, Fox? 

He has no *idea*, but -- he can check. He slips one glove off and pushes two fingers *deep* -- 

Another *gurgle* -- 

He looks up -- she's choking herself. She's -- "Do you do this *every* time you can't control your Cry, gorgeous?" 

She nods -- 

Shakes her head -- 

And moves one hand for just long enough to point *vehemently* at her pretty little pussy. 

"Good enough," the Fox says, and darts back in, biting her mound again -- 

I believe she's going to give us something of a kink for strangled noises. 

We already had one. 

We *did*? 

Yeah, it -- well, it was a *violence* kink, Brucie, so it was more mine than yours -- 

But still ours. Yes, I see. I'd like to -- 

Go ahead... 

And Bruce hums and kisses her vulva everywhere he can, spreads her wider so that he can sniff, and lick, and hum *more*. Her salt is -- 

Her *sweetness* --

And the way she arches for the flat of his tongue dragged up her clitoris -- 

The way she *bucks* for the press of his fingers against her G spot -- 

She's gonna want to get fucked if you keep that up. 

I *want* -- 

No, *feel*, Brucie. 

I *am*, but -- yes, I see. The flesh inside isn't as smooth. 

That would feel *fantastic* on our dick -- for *us*. 

But not, necessarily, for her. I see.

And so Bruce only *rocks* his fingers inside her, stimulating the vestibule carefully, gently-- 

And saving the lion's share of his attentions for her clitoris, which is soft and firm at once and *thicker* than Selina's. Enough so that Bruce wonders about how much testosterone --

*Focus*, Brucie -- 

It's only that I want to know *everything*, Fox -- 

Know *this*, and the Fox closes Bruce's lips around Dinah's clitoris and flicks his tongue over and over -- 

Dinah *immediately* begins drumming her heels against the roof and *shaking* -- 

Bruce hums his understanding -- 

And the choked noises begin again, louder and more plaintive, more *desperate* -- 

Yeah, *that's* the ticket -- 

Yes -- *yes* -- 

Tease her a little - 

And Bruce pulls back to lick gently, to *carefully* nibble her inner labia -- 

It sounds as though she's strangling *rage* --

Almost, Brucie, almost -- 

And Bruce needs no direction once she kicks him in the armor just above his kidney, because -- 

He *needs* to suck her clitoris, to lick and *slap* with his tongue -- 

She lets him hear her *moan* before choking herself again -- 

And Bruce feels himself blushing, feels himself *needing* to move his fingers, pull back, lick her fluids from his face, push *in* -- 

*Take* -- 

Fox, I -- 

Nope, not tonight. 

And so *he's* growling, sucking harder, licking more *forcefully* -- 

She stiffens -- 

Gurgles *loudly* -- 

Be ready, Brucie, and the Fox moves Bruce's hands -- carefully -- to her hips -- just in time for her to start bucking and straining with the force of her orgasm. He's *not* strong enough to hold her *entirely* still, but -- 

He can hold her still enough to move his mouth lower, to suck her juices away and *stab* at her vestibule -- 

"*Fox*!" 

Bruce nuzzles more -- 

"*Nnh* -- oh -- tongue, tongue *more* --" 

He moves his hands back to her outer labia and spreads her wide, taking her with his tongue until her sounds become rhythmic grunts and croons. There's more fluid, but the taste is much milder, much -- 

More frustrating, Brucie? 

I want -- more. 

Tell her. 

"Ooh, *ooh* -- okay, okay, stop --" 

Bruce pulls back and licks his lips, staring and -- feeling himself. His jock is hurting him. His skin feels tight and hot. His armor is *strangling* -- 

Now, *there's* a word. 

Yes, and Bruce reaches out to grip her throat -- without choking her. 

"Oh -- Bruce?" And her voice is a perfect whisper, a breath -- 

Bruce nods. 

Dinah licks her lips. "Am I -- teaching you things?" 

"Yes." 

Dinah *shivers* -- and wraps her strong fingers around Bruce's forearm. "A little squeeze?" 

Bruce does it -- 

And Dinah growls and arches -- 

For you, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes, but -- 

She doesn't want us *that* way, yeah, I know. It's okay, though -- 

She wants us -- other ways, and Bruce releases the squeeze and strokes her strong cheekbones. As a child, she had been almost stereotypically 'cute.' A button nose; long, shining black hair; pale skin; and -- roses in her cheeks. 

Perhaps more of a fairy tale -- 

Perhaps more of a *dark* fairy tale than the ones reimagined by the Whiznee corporation, but still -- 

Innocent? Apart? Safe? 

Had any of those things been true then? *Could* any of them have been true? 

"Bruce...?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm sorry. My thoughts are... wandering." 

She raises her eyebrows. "I think I'm *insulted*." 

Bruce laughs. "Please, don't be. I was... thinking of your childhood." 

"Uh. Maybe I preferred being insulted." 

Bruce winces -- 

She *really* didn't mean that. 

But -- 

Look at the spark in her eyes. The -- 

Twinkle. Yes. Bruce narrows his eyes for effect -- 

Dinah licks her lips -- 

"Your beauty then was... almost unreal, Dinah." 

"Unreal *how*?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "It's difficult to describe, save that you reminded me of fairy tales. Older, darker ones, that is. Now... now, you're much more approachable." 

Her expression quirks. 

Try again, Brucie. 

Hm. "What I mean is... I was incapable of considering your beauty physically then. Sexually." 

"That's... you know that's normal, right? More normal than... uh. Most of us, actually." 

Bruce blinks and looks within -- 

The Fox turns him back to Dinah. You *know* she's right. 

I do, yes, but -- Bruce laughs and traces her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to being... normal." 

Dinah snorts very forcefully -- and bites her lip. "Uh. Sorry." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "It's really quite all right. All of my loved ones do eventually express doubts about my sanity." 

"All... uh." 

"Yes." 

"Is it okay if I don't touch that?" 

"I assure you, Dinah, there are other things to... touch." 

Dinah giggles. "That was kinda -- you and the Fox mushed together, yeah?" 

Bruce nods and lets his eyes heat -- 

"I like it," she says, sitting up and rolling onto her knees, heedless of the roof grit. 

"I want..." 

"Yeah?" 

"I want to massage you with warm oils, then wrap you in soft towels." 

Dinah's expression quirks again. "Would we fuck then?" 

"If you --" 

Say yes. 

"Yes," Bruce says, and gives himself leave to cup her hips once more. "And perhaps before, as well." 

"Heh. During?" 

"That could be... slippery." 

Dinah grins. "Take your cape off." 

Bruce does, and lays it down -- 

And Dinah lies back, spreading her legs -- and opening the top of her corset. 

"Dinah..." 

"Mm-hmm. I'm pretty slippery right here," she says, and presses her breasts together. 

"Oh. I..." 

"Now I *know* your Catwoman hasn't done this for you." 

"She's not -- she broke up with me." 

"Oh -- I'm so sorry!" 

"It's." Bruce shakes his head. "I will not allow my feelings to stand between... to..." Bruce shakes his head again -- 

"Come *here* --" 

"Dinah..." 

"I *promise* you'll love this, and -- it'll take your mind off it." 

"You've already..." Bruce licks his lips and strokes her thighs, letting his fingertips catch in the fishnets, letting himself trace old and new scars -- 

"*Bruce*." 

It's okay, Brucie. Let me. 

I... "Dinah. Which of me would you prefer?" 

"Which -- uh." She frowns at him from over her large, full, scarred breasts --

"You are... indescribably beautiful." 

"Are you gonna keep trying to describe me anyway?" 

"Yes." 

Dinah snorts again and... jiggles her breasts. At him. "C'mon, I want a pearl necklace you can lick off me when you're done." 

Bruce *grunts*. "But -- tell me --" 

"*You*. You need it more. And Foxy -- well. Foxy wouldn't be as *nice* about it." 

I can be nice! Tell her -- 

She wants you for other things. 

Still, don't let her get the wrong *idea*, Brucie -- 

A moment, Bruce says, and kisses his way up her body, increasing the pressure where she's still covered and biting where she's not. 

"Ooh --" 

He sucks her nipples one at a time -- 

If you don't tell her... 

I will -- 

If you don't tell her *soon*, I make us start thinking about Mom. 

I always love thinking about Mother -- 

Stop making me be the *sane* one! 

Bruce pulls back and licks his lips. "Dinah. The Fox... the Fox can be quite friendly." 

"Uh, huh, sure, anything you say, *suck* more --" 

"As you say," and Bruce -- suckles. Laps and mouths and *pulls* with the force of his suction -- 

Dinah groans and kicks at the roof --

His *boots* -- 

Bruce moves back to the other breast and offers the same treatment, humming for the subtly different taste of the sweat here, the *springy* texture -- 

"Oh -- oh, *Bruce* --" 

You weren't convincing enough. 

You're far more capable of being convincing than I am. 

I could still make us think -- 

Mother didn't enjoy breastfeeding us, at all. 

That's what she *said*. 

Mother wouldn't *lie* to us -- 

*Mom* knows how *crazy* you are! Oh -- fuck this. *Nibble* a little. 

Bruce nods and does it -- 

Dinah *whimpers* -- 

Oh -- oh, yeah -- 

Bruce sucks *harder* -- 

"Ohn -- *fuck*, Bruce, this is supposed to be for *you* --" 

Pull off and -- 

"Did you think it wasn’t?" 

"Uh. Uh." Dinah licks her lips. "Don't make me think. That's what I think." 

Bruce smiles helplessly -- 

"Oh, you're so *sweet* -- fuck. I need to see your chest hair *soon*." 

"It would take --" 

"Not right now! *Suck*! And then *fuck*." 

"As you --" 

"Now now now --" 

Bruce darts in and *bites* her left nipple -- 

"Nuh --!" 

Licks to soothe -- 

Sucks to -- hopefully-- inflame -- 

And she's moaning for him, *trying* to arch despite Bruce's weight on her -- 

Mmm. She is... something else. 

Something other than *us* to be sure. 

Other than *her*, too. Do you think she knows how sweet *she* is?

How... how could she not? 

A girl like this, raised by a bunch of the toughest old swinging dicks the world has ever put out... 

Ted. Ted treated her as a favored surrogate daughter... 

Sure *he* did, but all those others? Really? Alan wouldn't know how to raise a child if he put Dr. Spock in construct-cuffs and interrogated him for a month. 

Alan *has* children -- 

And that's *terrifying*. Nah, Dinah didn't get too much parenting, I don't think. I bet... 

Bruce moves back and forth between Dinah's breasts and gives himself a moment to enjoy -- no, to *wallow* in the way her moans and cries speak of increasing sensitivity, in the way her hands are *shaking* -- 

I bet she'd get into it if you gave her a little Daddy, Brucie. 

Bruce -- blinks. 

No, don't *stop* -- 

"Bruce -- fuck, *Bruce* --" 

Bruce exhales on her breasts -- 

Licks the large areolae to make them wetter -- 

*Blows* -- 

And she grunts and bucks beneath him. She -- 

"Dinah... Dinah, I'd like to give you another orgasm --" 

"Nuh. Uh. *Later*!" 

Hm. "Are you sure?" 

She nods *frantically* -- 

Yeah, see, *that*? She doesn't just *want* to get you off, she *needs* it. 

"Do you. Do you need --" 

"*Please*, Bruce, please let me feel, let me *see*!" 

Told ya. 

Bruce groans and kneels up, pushing down his trousers, under-tights, and jock -- 

"Grow your *hair* --" 

"Dinah --" 

"Come on come on come -- *oh* --" 

"Your breasts..." Bruce licks his lips. "Your breasts are soft enough that I could --" 

"*Do* it --" 

Bruce turns her nipples inward and grunts again --

*Again* when she whimpers -- 

"You -- so *soft* --" 

Dinah nods again -- and *rolls* her breasts against Bruce's penis. That -- 

Fox, *help* -- 

Thrust, just -- 

Bruce does, slowly -- 

Slow as you can, at first, yeah -- oh, *yeah* -- 

I can't -- her eyes are so *wide* -- 

Keep staring, Brucie. Make her feel you *that* way, too. 

Bruce growls helplessly -- 

"*Oh* -- Fox?" 

"*No*," Bruce says, and he can't -- 

He has to thrust faster, *take* -- 

Yeah, give it to her -- 

"You're so *beautiful*, Dinah --" 

"You're so *big*," and she giggles for him, she *shakes* -- 

Feel that sweat.

My -- my saliva, as well -- 

But she's sweating more right now. She's -- mm, *smell* her. 

Musk and sweat and -- 

That *milky* scent -- 

Don't think about Mom, Brucie. 

I *wasn't* -- 

And the Fox laughs breathlessly inside him, *helplessly* -- 

And Bruce is helpless not to smile -- 

And Dinah smiles at *him* -- "You like it, Bruce?" 

"I -- I love it -- *oh* --" 

And the feel of her *mashing* her breasts against him -- 

"That -- that can't be *comfortable* --" 

"I can almost feel you *inside* my tits, Bruce. Keep *going* --" 

"Yes. Yes. I." 

Ask her about Ted. 

Bruce's penis twitches hard, almost *painfully* -- 

"Oh, *yeah*, Bruce --" 

"Tell me. Tell me about Ted." 

Dinah *grins* -- "He shook like a *leaf* the first time he came on my face." 

"I. I may do the same --" 

"Then let the *Fox* out for that, because I *need* it, Bruce --" 

"You. I don't *understand* --" 

And then she rears up and *licks* the head of his penis -- 

"*Dinah* --" 

She does it again -- 

Again and again for every *thrust* -- 

"*Please*, Dinah --" 

"He *won't* do this for me, Bruce." 

"For -- but --" 

"Sometimes a girl just needs to be... you know..." And this time she *blushes* and giggles, and this -- 

She's a beauty. 

"A beautiful... beautiful little girl..." 

Dinah *pants* -- and stares into his eyes *hotly*. 

Oh, *yeah*. Go with it, Brucie. *Profile* -- heh. No. We already have, haven't we? 

Yes -- 

Oh -- 

Bruce reaches down and cups her throat again -- and can't keep himself from thrusting faster when she *arches* -- 

When she *begs* him to squeeze harder with touch alone -- no, her eyes make the same plea -- 

And a plea for more, too, Brucie. *Give* it to her. 

You -- you would be better -- 

Not for this. Not *ever* for this. It's not how I'm made. 

But -- 

Give it to her, Brucie. Just -- make her ours. A *little* bit ours. 

And Bruce *has* to still himself to keep his hands from shaking too much -- no, not that. He grips her hair with his free hand, holding her down against the roof -- 

He stares *into* her. 

"Such... a beautiful little girl," he says again, licking his lips and offering her his hunger, his *greed*. "Beautiful then. Exquisite now. *Ripe*... but still so very young." 

She moans -- and that's all he needs to know. In truth, he already knew, but -- 

"You treasure your youth. You..." Bruce licks his teeth and lets himself groan for the softness, the *welcoming* slickness of her sweat, her touch -- "You'll have my scent all night. And I'll have your own." 

She nods -- 

She *tries* to nod, but Bruce squeezes harder, forces her head up with his thumb -- 

"If you... if you were my little girl, I would never. Let you go." 

She *shudders* then -- 

"It's what you want, isn't it? Someone who will... take you. And take your freedom." 

She *starts* to shake her head -- 

"Shh," Bruce says, and lets himself rock faster, thrust *harder*. He is. "You're going to give me an orgasm. You are... a wonder to me. Beauty and strength, grace and wisdom... and you are so, so young..." 

Her eyes begin to -- to haze *over* -- 

"I would never take the night from you. I would *give* -- " 

She shudders -- 

Bruce grunts and forces himself to slow for a moment, just enough to *feel* the drag of her nipples along his shaft -- "I would give this to *both* of us. I would share with you, and... and *take* you --" 

Another shudder, and -- 

Oh -- 

*Do* it, Brucie, spank that clit -- heh. No. Her little *dick*. 

That's -- that what she said -- 

And how she probably thought about it when Kent was sucking on it for her. 

Bruce grunts for the image -- 

*Blushes* -- 

It's so wrong that that got that reaction when *Mom* didn't -- 

Let me *focus*, and Bruce releases her hair and reaches back, seeks *roughly* -- 

And she begins to buck and shudder *violently* with the first brush of his fingers against her clitoris, she -- 

She needs more. 

She will *have* it. And Bruce can't keep a *hard* smile off his face. It's an expression which *should* belong solely to the Fox, but -- 

With my compliments, Brucie... 

He spanks her. He -- "I would spank you *daily* --" 

"*Hnk* --" 

"I would... give you every pain, every desired *pain* --" 

She beats her *head* against the roof --

"I would... pull you. Pull you onto my *lap* --" 

And the first thought in his mind when she stiffens is 'too *soon*', but then she's writhing and *jerking* beneath him -- 

She's *struggling* -- 

She struggling to *scream* -- and she never releases her breasts, at all. She -- 

Best. Ride. *Ever*. 

We must never -- 

Let her go. 

We must -- 

Give her *everything* she needs, Brucie. 

We *must* -- 

*Keep* her -- oh, no -- 

She releases her breasts to tug at Bruce's arm, and the loss feels *crippling* -- but he can follow orders. He can -- 

He eases his grip on her throat -- 

"Fuck, fuck, *fuck*!" 

"Dinah --" 

"Come *here*," and she grabs his hips and pulls even as she opens her mouth -- 

She takes him *in* in three *powerful* gulps -- 

Bruce *grinds* before he can stop himself -- 

She claws his buttocks with her short nails -- 

*Selina* -- 

*No*. And the Fox pushes him down onto his hands -- 

The Fox forces him out of Dinah's throat -- 

And in -- 

And *out* -- 

*Give* it to her! 

"*Dinah*," Bruce groans, and he sounds more like something large and moribund than a man, he sounds -- 

He *feels* -- 

He'd somehow *forgotten* that there could be more warmth than what could be found between her breasts -- 

He'd forgotten *tightness*, and heat, and -- 

"I want to *watch* you with Ted -- *hnh* --" 

Strong, slim fingers in his cleft and *seeking* -- 

"*Dinah* --" 

It's her turn to give it to *you*, Brucie... 

To *us*, always -- brother -- 

*Brother*, yes -- 

*Yes* -- 

And she pushes deep -- 

She bares her *teeth* -- 

And Bruce feels himself thrusting even as the Fox releases every control he has --

Bruce hears himself *shouting* and has to see, has to *know* -- 

And Dinah is staring up at him with acceptance, and curiosity, and a hunger that goes beyond sexuality. She -- 

"My *friend*," Bruce blurts -- 

And Dinah blushes and *nods* even as she takes Bruce's thrusts, even as she *works* her fingers within him -- 

So -- 

Such burn and *sweetness* -- 

Such perfect -- 

And the Fox roars within him a split second before Bruce feels the pressure and *power* of his orgasm, the Fox makes him pull *out* -- 

And ejaculate on Dinah's lips and cheek. 

The Fox makes him *watch* -- 

And the only sounds Bruce can make are rhythmic and desperate grunts. The only thing he can do is *stare* at her wide eyes -- 

Her carefully-closed eyes -- 

"Oh, *Dinah*, I --" Bruce shakes his head and grunts *again* as his penis twitches -- no more semen comes out. No -- 

He's all right. He -- keep me from *shaking*, brother -- 

You got it, Brucie. Now just -- 

Yes, and Bruce pushes back and covers her, cups her face and needs to kiss, *wants* to -- 

He can. He *can*, because they can clean each *other* afterward. And -- 

That's precisely what they do. There is a unique and *corrupt* decadence to lapping at a seventeen-year-old -- 

Girl. 

*Woman* on a rooftop while exposed to the night -- 

You love it. And so does she. 

Yes. Yes. 

She giggles when he draws her name on her cheek with the tip of his tongue, and so he draws his own name on her other cheek.

She kisses him firmly, *deeply* -- 

She hums into his mouth when he cups her -- her lovely breast --

And then she pulls back and grins at him. "That was *fantastic*." 

"Yes, I..." Bruce strokes her damp cheek with his fingertips. "Thank you." 

Her expression *quirks* -- "You're *welcome*. But -- um. Thank *you*. I really -- heh. I don't get that too often." 

Bruce frowns. "But --" 

She presses two fingers to his mouth and raises her eyebrows. "I don't *let* them. Mainly because... um." And she smiles ruefully. "I'm not supposed to go for that." 

Bruce tugs her hand away from his mouth. "But... why not? There's no harm --" 

"No, there *isn't*. But I -- well. On the one hand? I've been doing this *forever*. On the other hand... I really haven't. And I'm seventeen years old. And I don't wear practical clothes. And I already like to be choked. And --" 

"I believe... I believe I see." Bruce frowns and strokes her cheek again, this time with the backs of his fingers. "I confess that I've spent time considering other uniforms for you --" 

"Oh -- *Bruce* --" 

"But I will never pressure you, as it is not my place." 

"Maybe. Maybe it *is* silly," Dinah says, kneeling up and pushing a hand back through her hair. "I mean, there weren't half as many guns on the street when my mother started doing this --" Dinah blows out a breath and smiles ruefully again. "I wasn't as close to her as I could've been, you know? I snuck around behind her back to learn all the tricks I could, and the fact that I got away with it made me respect her less, and -- yeah. By the time I found out that she'd known all along, she was *dying*, and I. I didn't really let myself have a mother, Bruce. And -- it's not *really* like this, I know, but I *also* never really let the other guys be my fathers, even though some of them really wanted to be. I mean, Alan used to fly around behind me on rainy days with a little construct umbrella." 

Bruce blinks. 

She's lying about this not being about... parenting.

Yes, but I don't think she's aware -- 

She isn't. She doesn't *really* have to be, I don't think. 

Not... not yet. But -- 

Alan, yeah. That's *weird* -- 

Yes --

"Heh. You can't actually picture Alan doing that, can you?" 

"I... hm. Not particularly, no." 

She snorts and jabs him just to the right of his sternum. "*That's* because 'sexually-harass first, ask questions later' *isn't* always the best plan." 

The Fox grins. "If you say so, gorgeous -- but sometimes I just can't *resist*." 

"Why *don't* you go for the women, at all? I mean -- you really *don't*. Not the civilians *or* the heroes." 

Bruce pushes forward once more. "Women in positions of authority have usually already put up with far too much of that sort of behavior already -- often *from* the men I do it to." 

"Yeah, I... Mom always said the early days with the JSA were tough that way. Just like. She liked you, you know? She said... she said I could probably trust you. Which -- that's pretty much as complimentary as she got about people who weren't either JSA or Amazons." 

"Oh... I. That warms me. Thank you." 

"'Warms' you." Dinah sighs. "You do *know* why I couldn't just say that until *after* we'd screwed a couple times, right?" 

Bruce opens his mouth to say no -- but realizes that it wouldn't be at all honest. "You have much to live up to... and even more that you *feel* you must live up to." 

"*Exactly* --" 

"No." 

"What do you mean 'no'?" 

"I mean..." Bruce smiles again and kisses her softly. "I mean that you are your own woman, and should -- though I hesitate to use that word -- be doing your level best to be yourself in every way. You're kind, and warm, and intelligent, and skilled -- you would've fought your mother to a standstill tonight, assuming you didn't best her outright --" 

"Don't -- don't." 

"Dinah --" 

"I can't. I can't actually hear that. Um -- sorry. I know what you're trying to say. I just -- I need her, Bruce." 

Bruce catches his breath. "You feel closer to her this way." 

"I -- she's not *gone* when I wear this. She's -- she's right there, watching over me as best she can but damned well letting me be free. She's. God, I *miss* her."

Brucie -- 

Yes, and Bruce pulls Dinah into his arms and holds her, rocks her gently -- 

Dinah cries for only a few minutes, and the only sign is a *slight* damp spot on Bruce's shirt. 

"You've learned to regulate your tears." 

She pulls back -- "You *haven't*?" 

Bruce offers his own rueful smile. "I've yet to break down while in the midst of a fight, if that's what you mean, but other than that..." Bruce shakes his head. 

"That -- that's -- uh. Hm." 

"Yes?" 

Dinah snorts. "I can't decide if that's dangerous or *not*." 

"Need it be one or the other?" 

"Yes...? Maybe...? I -- actually thought I *knew* this one," she says, and snorts again. "I... guess it's good that you can express your emotions when they happen and all of that? I mean, that *does* sound right. For --" 

"A civilian, perhaps...?" 

Dinah blushes. "I -- really was about to say that, wasn't I?" She blows out a breath. "Okay, here's the deal -- we're *all* fucking... emotionally *constipated* sometimes. And we use our *down* time to let it all out, and... not the other times." 

"That does make sense --" 

"But you haven't *had* any of us before, and..." Dinah looks slightly *distressed* -- 

"It's all right --" 

"It's *not*. But only because I think you might be doing it right while the *rest* of us are fucking up, and apparently I can't actually deal with that." 

"Dinah, it truly is --" 

"You. You'd let me cry on your shoulder pretty much whenever, wouldn't you?" 

Bruce frowns. "Of course. I can't imagine anyone who knew you denying you -- or themselves -- that." 

"No, I. They *wouldn't*. But they'd totally also be a little... out of sorts. Weirded out. There's such a thing as *timing*." 

"Perhaps you could teach me --" 

"I don't *want* to. I -- at least *one* of us should be a little sane." 

Bruce coughs. "I -- hm." 

Dinah frowns in confusion -- and then snorts once more before giggling somewhat uncontrollably. 

"I see you take my point." 

"Really *yeah*. I -- we'll talk about this later?" 

"I hope so. Do you think. Would you like to come home with me tonight?" 

"To your *townhouse*?" 

"Yes...?" 

"Um. Um. Maybe after I pick up some clean underwear --" 

"We could stop at your apartment --" 

"Bruce, there is no clean underwear there. Just -- there hasn't been. For a while." 

"All right..." 

Dinah giggles more and kisses Bruce briefly and firmly before rolling to her feet and adjusting her corset. "I *will* come over sometime -- no. I'll do my laundry tomorrow afternoon, and drop by with some clothes -- wait, why isn't that weird to you?" 

"I'm. Which?" 

She offers him his hand and tugs him to his feet. "The part where I'm sorta kinda moving *in*, Bruce." 

"Ah. Well... it seems practical for you to have civilian clothing in my headquarters if we're going to be working together regularly." 

"Right. Because you totally *do* get it -- even though you're really *weird* -- right," she says, and shakes herself in a distinctly canine fashion before shrugging her jacket back on. "I'll catch up, I swear." 

"I'll do my best to help --" 

"I know you will. What *are* we doing tonight?" 

Bruce tells Dinah about what he'd learned from Jim, and what he had done to help Jim and Harvey with the massive amounts of corruption in the past -- 

"The Fifteenth... that's down near the docks. That's..." Dinah shakes her head. "My Dad -- my *actual* father -- worked on the other side of the piers. The Twenty-First." 

Bruce nods. He'd already -- 

"And... you totally knew that." She jabs him to the *left* of his sternum. "*Creep*. Okay, do we have any names?" 

"Lieutenant Torn and Sergeant Heath seem to be relatively high in the scheme --" 

"God, the only thing worse than dirty cops are dirty *brass*. Bleh. Mom would've kicked their asses *already*." 

"Almost certainly. But..." And the Fox strokes Bruce's fly with his thumb. "I'm thinking Jimmy wants us to be a little *subtle* for now." 

Dinah sighs. "That *will* help the guys on the other side of the law build a case later on. Okay, let's go beat the crap out of dealers *around* the Fifteenth." 

The Fox inclines his head -- 

And they fly. 

They find no true surprises. The criminal enterprise in the area the Fifteenth covers -- and a bit beyond -- is controlled by exactly two gangs. The Fox had already known that they battled each other less than other gangs, but he had used that as an excuse to pay *less* attention to the area. 

A lack of gang war tends to mean safer civilians, and the crimes which are *reported* in this area -- 

The reported crime rate is precisely as low as it should be, given just how dirty the Fifteenth *is*. Rupert Thorne's oh-so-unofficial family has been given free rein over prostitution, numbers, and crack. The Fiorelli family, in turn, has been given heroin, 'party drugs', illegal casinos, and protection. 

And a big chunk of every wad of cash that makes its way to the families... detours by way of the Fifteenth. 

Every halfway pointed question to non-connected dealers -- universally grateful to only get a few bumps and bruises and have their stashes tossed -- tells them the same thing. 

Every -- 

And there are more names. Torn never gets mentioned, but his hands almost certainly haven't been *directly* dirty in years. Heath's name gets them the stink of fear and a few *runners* -- 

But Dinah's bolo-work is nearly perfect. Nearly -- the jacket reduces her extension. And the rueful look she gives him when one of their runners *almost* gets away tells him that that she knows it. 

The other names are completely unknown to the Fox. There's a patrolman named Soames who likes hurting people -- especially the civilians who don't pay their protection money soon enough. 

There's *another* patrolman named White who apparently doesn't manage to make it through a single day without amphetamines and the abuse of young black pros. Too young, sometimes. 

There's another sergeant named Hirschfeld who's been using safehouses for *poker* games -- 

It goes on. 

And on. 

And fucking *on* -- 

Fox, we cannot allow ourselves rage -- 

These -- Brucie, these are the people who'll be endangering *Jim's* life. *Harvey's*. 

And every citizen unlucky enough to live in this part of the city. I know, Fox, but... look. 

He does... and the unconnected, shaven-headed muscle he'd been bracing is staring at him with a look of raw terror on his face -- because the Fox is holding a blade very, very close to his eye.

And -- the Fox knows exactly what look is on his face, just as he knows what look is on Dinah's. 

And Canary's for that matter. 

He flips the knife back into its spring-sheath and plants a big wet one on the muscle's cheek. "You behave now, Curly-Sue."

"I'm. I'm free to go?" 

Canary pulls the Fox back and knees Curly in the jewels. "Now you are, punk." 

"*Fuck*. I --" Curly shakes his head and runs for the alley mouth. 

That's really more of a fast limp, Fox. 

Eh, he's managing to get those knees up. It's a run. 

Hmm. As you say. But -- 

Got it. The Fox smiles at Dinah ruefully. "Sorry about that. I'm just --" 

"Pissed at yourself for missing all this?" 

"Got it in one, gorgeous --" 

"*Don't* take it out on... well, take it out on the *major* criminals. Not foot-soldiers like *him*." 

The Fox inclines his head. "You're absolutely right, and I'll remember that." 

"She said -- she said she worried about how violent you got sometimes." 

Her mother... "I always *behaved* around her --" 

"And she could tell you *were* behaving, Fox. I -- how *often* do you use those knives?" 

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "Every night --" 

"You know what I mean." 

"Gorgeous, every last one of my knives is sharp enough to shave with -- and I *could* shave with them even if I were blindfolded, drugged, and working on a four-day sleep debt. If I *couldn't*, I wouldn't carry them, at all. Now, if you're asking how many of Gotham's missing persons are *due* to my knives --" 

"I am." 

"Then I have to ask *you* how much you really don't trust me versus how much you're regretting trusting me *earlier*." 

Dinah rears back -- 

And Bruce raises the Fox's hands and makes a soft pushing motion. "Please, I mean no disrespect. It's only... I had come to believe that you *did* trust me more than that." 

Dinah blushes very deeply -- 

Scowls and turns away --

"They *talk* about you." 

"I know, Canary. I wouldn't have it any other --" 

"They -- the smart ones are afraid of you. The way Clark is," she says, and turns back to face him. 

Oh... "Are you afraid of me?" 

She squeezes her eyes shut and taps her foot rapidly -- 

"Have you. Have you always worn those boots?" 

"What? They're the best on the -- holy shit, you *made* these, didn't you?" 

"Not... each individual pair --" 

"But the ones on *your* feet and --" Dinah snorts and rubs at her nose with the back of her hand. "Okay. Okay. Most of me thinks that the only reason *any* of us should be afraid of you is that you're the guy -- the *one* guy -- who won't let *any* of us slip even a *little*."

Bruce nods once. "But the rest?" 

"The rest -- the rest says you're crazy in a *different* way than everyone else is, and that means I should watch my back, even though you only *seem* to be crazy in ways that wouldn't really hurt *anyone* good." 

Bruce strokes her cheek. "I have maimed criminals, but only the ones who I've proven -- sufficiently for my needs -- to have been guilty of committing the most terrible crimes. I have every intention of continuing to do so... but I also have every intention -- and every ability -- to control myself otherwise. On a larger scale... I will not let any of you fall and take innocents with you. It's a promise I made to myself years ago, and I have the resources and abilities to keep that promise." 

"And the will." 

Bruce inclines his head. 

"It's just -- it's just that I don't know what *box* to put you in." 

Bruce frowns. "Are you speaking of... compartmentalization?" 

"*Yes*. Because there are the lazy-but-golden types like Hal, and the stern-daddies like Alan, and the loud-but-*competent* types like Ollie, and the aw-shucks-but-*pervy* types like Barry and Clark, and the *real*-aw-shucks types like Jay, and the eternal-warrior-of-*doom* types like Diana and Hippolyta... you don't fit." 

The Fox grins. "Some of us make our *own* brand, gorgeous."

She waves a hand at him. "You know what I *mean*." 

"I do, I do," and the Fox lets himself lean against the -- thankfully dry -- alley wall. "I *really* do, because you had more reason than most to think you had a grasp on the basic vigi *type*." 

"*Yes*!" 

"You don't think Brucie's a little aw-shucks-y?" 

Dinah opens her mouth -- and closes it again. 

The Fox grins nice and wide. "You don't think I'm a lazy party-boy...?" 

"You *aren't*!" 

"And if Hal and Oliver truly were? They'd have been dead by now." And Bruce *grumbles* within him --and the Fox laughs. "You have no *idea* how much Brucie *hates* saying anything remotely positive about those two." 

"Why... do you call him that?" 

"I honestly can't tell you if I do it because Brucie wants me to be different from all of his other loved ones or if I do it because Brucie just thinks I *should*." 

Dinah -- opens and closes her mouth again, which -- 

The Fox inclines *his* head again. "It's all right, gorgeous. We know we've got problems."

"What are you *doing* about them?" 

"This." 

"Oh. Well -- yeah, that works. I -- I'm sorry I'm being so paranoid --" 

"We didn't exactly get the chance for pillow-talk. This counts, as far as *I'm* concerned." 

She sticks her tongue out at him. 

He *wiggles* his tongue at her -- 

She giggles. "Okay, okay, I'm good if you are." 

"I'm *better* than --" 

"Good *enough*. Let's go see how far the Thornes and the Fiorellis go, influence-wise." 

"West and Southwest are BTM. Northwest are the Kings. North --" 

"Is a *mess*. All right, we can start there. I really need to beat the crap out of a lot of people." 

They get their chance before they're all the way across Broad, when a large group of Lady Kings -- 

And Bruce *always* wonders why they don't call themselves Queens -- 

And the Fox reminds him -- again -- how close they are to Pinktown -- 

And, by then, the not-at-all-Queens are coming at them from all angles. As always, when violence against women isn't just necessary but a manner of life and death -- 

As always, Bruce sinks *deep* within him, leaving Fox to dole out pain and obnoxiousness all by his lonesome. 

He breaks the nose of a woman with a *terrible* perm -- 

He punches another woman in the abdomen hard enough that she vomits *on* the first woman's perm -- 

He listens to Dinah get called about seventeen different kinds of bitch -- 

Ten different kinds of *whore* -- 

"Ladies, ladies, I'll have you know that Canary *never* charges." 

And Dinah is cackling *while* she's fighting, which can't be *any* good for her breathing...

But Dinah has been fighting crime in a corset for a length of time the Fox is *quite* all right with not being man enough to ask about -- so. 

He waltzes the exceedingly well-padded woman who tries to tackle him into the tangle of Lady Kings who have begun to fight amongst themselves, tripping three different women at once -- 

"Oh, *babies*, *try* not to fall all over yourselves for little old *me*..." 

He backhands the woman who slashes for his eyes, then breaks two -- possibly three -- of her ribs with a kick -- 

He stomps on the well-padded woman's stomach -- 

He tosses the woman with the razor *at* the woman who'd vomited --

And then it's time to dole out head injuries so the ladies will be *peaceable* when the police -- eventually -- come to pick them up. 

*If* they come to pick them up -- 

No, they can't risk acting like they know the whole damned precinct is locked-up tighter than Bennett's *box* -- 

Fox. 

Easy, Brucie, *easy*. You and I both know that nothing's getting up there without a case of medical-grade and a tranq-dart or six. 

*Fox*. 

The Fox sighs internally while he zip-strips everyone in order. Fine, yes, political conservatism -- even the *virulent* kind -- is not necessarily a harbinger of *frigidity*. 

'Frigid' has far too many sexist connotations -- 

*Impotence*, then, *Christ* -- 

It's only -- 

You don't like it when we beat up women. I know. I *know*. But Dinah was a lot meaner than I was -- 

I can't help thinking of Mother -- 

The Fox fills their mind with the image of Mom going for them with a straight razor. 

Hm. 

Exactly. 

But... how *would* we go about restraining her? 

The Fox fills his mind with *alarms* -- 

Oh -- really, Fox, people like Scarecrow are *always* releasing dangerous toxins into the air and water -- 

The Fox makes the alarms *louder* -- 

It's a practical question! 

You're still not allowed to think about it.

But -- 

*I'll* think about it. I promise. 

When -- 

*Later*. When you're asleep. 

... but. 

The Fox grins at the bewildered Brucie in their mind. He's wearing the beautiful deep indigo suit Harvey had picked out for him way back when, his hair is perfect, and he's -- 

Well, he's Brucie, and that means that he's way, way more than just handsome. He is... the Maker. 

Brucie frowns. What does *that* mean?

Brucie. 

I -- all right, I think I see, but that hardly requires capitalization. 

I wasn't real before I knew what you were to me. Also, you don't actually let me sleep. 

You -- I'm so sorry! 

Nah. You *also* don't let me get tired. 

Oh. Never? 

Never ever ever. My eyes are always peeled, Brucie. And right now, they're telling me that Dinah is ready for us, so...? 

Yes, of course, and Brucie fades back into darkness -- 

And Fox trusses up the last woman and turns to pull Dinah -- into a clinch. He likes that phrase -- 

"*Fox*!" 

"Gonna sing for me, pretty --" 

"You still don't get to call me that," she says, rearing up to nip Fox's lower lip.

"I could just *kick* Green Arrow for getting to you first, gorgeous." 

"I could let him *shoot* you for talking about me like a *prize*," she says -- but her eyes are twinkling like arc-sodiums in steam, fog... 

Ambiguity. 

Righty-o, Brucie. The Fox pulls on an exaggeratedly sad face. "Don't *be* that way, tulip --" 

She jabs his abdomen -- 

"Oof, you're right, you're *absolutely* a buttercup --" 

She jabs him *again* -- 

"Night-blooming --" 

"No *flowers*!" 

"Pizza?" 

"Pizzas don't *bloom*!" 

"Onions?" 

"You --" Dinah snorts and bites his *jaw*. 

On both sides. 

Twice. "Let's go fight more crime!" 

"*Anything* you say, gorgeous." 

They spend the rest of the night learning the edges of the Fifteenth's influence, and it's *exactly* as depressing as they thought it would be. In flight, it's hard not to mark out the neighborhoods and see them lit a little more dimly, see them darker and more *dangerous* --

They are a cancer in our city, Fox. 

You're damned right, they are. And we're gonna cut it out. 

It's nearly dawn when they get back to their bikes, and -- 

"No, you *can't* follow me home, Fox. One, you already know where I live --" 

"True, but --" 

"And *two*? I'd just invite you in. And then you'd see what a pig I am. And *then*? We'd spend all morning fucking --" 

"And the afternoon?" 

"And *then* we'd be late to meet the Commissioner and your *ridiculously* hot brother, and I kinda have to make a good impression. And... wear panties." 

Bruce pushes forward. "I have to say, Harvey has always tended to make me *ruin* my underwear." 

"Oh my God, you're serious. You just -- you've been *joking* about that, but now you're not and you totally weren't before and --" She smacks the back of his head. 

God, I like her, Brucie. 

Yes. Bruce smiles ruefully. "We did stop that sort of thing when he became serious about his fiancée." 

"And *that* was?" 

"Three years ago." 

"And when did you *start*?" 

"When we were sixteen." 

"AUGH. I -- and he was the guy you were talking about!" 

Bruce nods once. 

"*AUGH AUGH AUGH* -- wait, you have to tell me everything!" 

"All right --" 

"No, you have to go *home*!" 

The Fox waggles his eyebrows. "I'd *love* to smell your sweat all over a nice, rumpled bed, gorgeous." 

"Ooh, that's -- *augh*. *Fox*!" 

"Yeah...?" 

"Oh -- no -- *Bruce*," she whispers, and leans over her bike to jab a finger in his face. "You're the responsible one!" 

"I... am?" 

"*Yes*! You... well, you make a *really* good Daddy, and everyone knows Daddies are responsible." 

Is that... 

The Fox sighs within him. She's absolutely right. She says Daddy the way I say Dad, sometimes -- though not the way *you* say 'Father.' 

Bruce nods slowly. "All right, Dinah. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yeah, I -- meet me on the Haines building? I've got -- I wanna show you something before the meet." 

"You could show me --" 

"*Tomorrow*," she says, and giggles with a febrile exhaustion which reminds Bruce helplessly of Lex. 

He takes her gloved hand and kisses the knuckles. "Until then." 

"*Go*! I wanna watch you *ride*." 

The Fox's smile feels like a saber on his face -- "Anytime, anyplace, gorgeous," and the Fox winks -- 

And they go.


	16. Chapter 16

The Fox wakes him with a puff of breath against his ear -- 

Bruce turns, and the Fox is there with him, sleek and cool in black silk -- pajamas. Hm. 

Don't look at me, Brucie. You're the one who picked these. 

Are they... comfortable? 

The Fox shrugs casually. A little on the warm side, but not bad. They make me feel like I should be hitting someone, though.

Bruce tries to imagine -- 

*Something* else -- 

And the Fox is now wearing cream silk with little foxes leaping across it. Hm. 

Try again when you're sleeping. 

I -- as you say. Why is it time to wake up? 

Mom's calling, and Alfred is *seconds* away from dropping the phone on your head. 

That seems somewhat violent for Alfred -- 

He's stressed. 

Well. That does makes sense. Bruce sits up and *then* opens his eyes -- 

And then registers the ring of the phone -- 

And then registers the fact that Alfred is holding it -- above his groin. 

He moved when you did. 

Of course. Bruce takes the telephone. "Thank you, Alfred." 

"You are quite welcome, sir. Breakfast will be served in one half hour." 

"Are you --" 

"We will discuss my difficulties then, Master Bruce," Alfred says, and walks out of the room -- but not before rubbing at his temple in a way he never does. 

Bruce frowns and picks up the receiver. "Good afternoon, Mother." 

"*Bruce*! Why are you trying to keep that wonderful Superman from going wherever he wants to go?" 

Bruce winces. "Harvey told you." 

"Yes, of *course* Harvey told me! *He* doesn't keep secrets from his mother." 

"Mother, I didn't mean for it to be a *secret* --" 

"Oh, so you're going to make a weapon fit only for *supervillains* a matter of public record?" 

"I was just --"

"Just *what*? I don't know what you've been getting up to with that *Luthor* fellow, Bruce, but it hardly seems *savory*." 

Bruce sighs -- 

"Are you *sighing*?" 

"Perhaps a little, Mother. Lex is my lover." 

"Your *what*? What about *Selina*?" 

"She broke up with --" 

Don't say 'us.' 

"-- me," Bruce says, and sits up against the headboard. "I believe it's fair to say that she found me entirely too... creepy." 

"Oh -- *damn* it. Did you apologize?" 

"Yes, Mother." 

"Did you offer to be *less* creepy?" 

Hm. "It didn't seem like the best idea to make promises I knew I wouldn't be able to keep, Mother." 

*She* sighs. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But since when have you ever even *considered* Luthor boyfriend material?" 

"In some ways, since I was fourteen," Bruce says, and waits for her next thought. 

She is silent. 

For... 

Rather a long time. Hm.

"Mother...?" 

"You didn't mention *him* in your letters." 

"No, I... we were never especially close. Or... close, at all." 

"Bruce, you wrote to us about Harvey *before he introduced himself to you*." 

Bruce -- licks his lips. "I... true. But... I never quite knew *how* to talk about Lex, Mother. He was... confusing." 

"Confusing *how*?" 

"Well, he portrayed himself as an adherent of the 'glam' lifestyle, and flirted with every male there, but he only made love to women. Additionally, he was a source of assorted kinds of contraband, but never seemed to utilize any of it himself. Additionally, he was obviously quite fit, but in P.E., he suffered abominably -- usually due to goading Coach Harrison. Additionally --" 

"You... thought about him a great deal." 

Bruce nods -- wait. "Yes, Mother. Though I would usually turn my thoughts to Harvey after a while. He was far less confusing." 

"Your... Bruce." 

"Yes, Mother?" 

"You're saying that you've wanted him for half your life." 

"Yes, Mother." 

"Why didn't you *say* anything?" 

"Because I didn't understand what I felt for him until very recently." 

She sighs once more. "And he is... your lover." 

"Yes, Mother. I'm also seeing a young woman named Dinah Lance, but only casually." 

"Since -- all right. All right. You've had... a very busy few days. Obviously." 

Bruce strokes the curve of the receiver. "Yes, Mother. I did plan to tell you all about it quite soon." 

Well, *almost* all. 

Indeed -- 

Stop that. 

I'm sorry. But... wouldn't it be wonderful to tell her?

She'd worry too much.

But -- perhaps she'd also be proud?

We can't do it, Brucie. Not... not with Mom. 

Are you -- 

I'm sure, and the Fox joins him in the space they share, far beneath the marble mother, who is smiling far more than she does in reality. 

The marble mother would be beneath their gaze in reality, too, but -- 

This is more real, Brucie. More True. 

As you say. 

We can't ever tell her. 

I -- 

Never ever. 

Yes, Fox. 

Go -- 

"-- me what's going on, darling? Truly." 

Still no, Brucie. 

Bruce sighs internally, and holds the receiver closer to his ear. "I've decided to have more of a social life, Mother." 

"With Lex Luthor and -- Dinah Lance." 

"And several of Dinah's friends. If they'll have me." 

"All right, you've told me about Luthor. What about Dinah? Where did you meet her? I would've remembered that name from one of the parties." 

"She's never attended any of them, Mother. She's a florist. I met her when I was wandering the city looking for gifts for Selina." 

And -- 

"Mother, are you frowning?" 

"You -- of course you could tell." She sighs again. "Bruce -- tell me more about her." 

"Will that. Will that make you feel better?" 

"It will make me feel closer to you, darling, and that *will* make me feel better." 

"Oh. I. I never want to be *apart* from you, Mother." 

"You *moved*. *Years* ago. After traveling the world *without* us." 

Bruce blinks and winces. "You. You missed me so much?" 

"Oh, Bruce. You're the only --" Another sigh. "Of course, Harvey is a wonderful son in every way, but he's not *you*, and I need you... I needed you before you were ever born." 

Bruce blushes and swallows. "Mother, I... I feel the same *way*. I mean, not -- you know what I mean. Don't you?" 

You still can't tell her. 

But -- 

*No*. 

But if she were to see *why* I leave her so often -- 

Then she would go *nuts* with worry. She -- she loves us. And sometimes she loves us in ways that aren't very good for us. 

I don't understand. 

I promise... I promise to try to explain, Brucie. Just trust me for now. 

Bruce shivers. I'll try. "Mother? Are you still --" 

"I'm here, Bruce. I'm. I miss you. I know I've said that before --" 

"I'll -- I'll come over right away --" 

"No, no, your father's home and he'll just want to *quiz* you about your *force field* -- tell me about it first." 

"Yes, Mother. It's entirely in the theoretical stage as of right now, but we already know that light filtered through kryptonite becomes something rather more particulate than all other sorts of light. It, for lack of a better term, gains solidity -- all without breaking down the kryptonite used in any currently measurable way. I believe it should therefore be possible to use it to enclose certain substances without harm being done to the surrounding materials." 

"Oh, that *does* sound interesting. Interesting *gibberish*, but still interesting. Is this what Luthor has been up to? And do I have to start calling him Lex? You *know* Harvey will hate that." 

"I believe calling him Luthor will be all right until such time as I introduce you to each other, Mother." 

She *huffs* -- "No, no, no. That will only encourage me in terrible habits, and make it *exceedingly* likely that I call him Luthor in person. Your father would never forgive me." 

"I find that rather unlikely --" 

"Fine. He would forgive me immediately, and then spend hours and days and weeks and *years* agonizing over whether or not to -- gently -- correct me for it, thus causing a wee little thundercloud to form over his charmingly handsome head and *drip* all over our carpeting for the whole time." 

Bruce blinks. "That... seems improbable." 

She giggles, then, and -- 

"Oh, Mother. I feared you wouldn't make that sound at all, today." 

"Oh, *Bruce*, what am I going to do with you?" 

"A hug would be very pleasant." 

"Yes, it *would*. Are you still working out like mad?" 

"Yes, Mother. I find it very soothing." 

"Soothing. Soothing. Hmm... does Lex work out?" 

"Yes, Mother. He's very fit. His body type is far better-suited to the size and shape of his head than it used to be." 

She hums. "Did you work out *together*...?" 

"We fenced for a time. He's quite accomplished at it. I'll have a small scar." 

"Did you disinfect it?" 

"Three times, Mother." 

"And it's bandaged?" 

"Yes, Mother." 

"Did he *kiss* it for you...?" 

Bruce blinks. "As a matter of fact --" 

"Oh, my. Let's -- let's not finish that thought," she says, and sounds... flustered. 

"All right, Mother. Are *you* all right?" 

"I miss my *baby*!" 

"Perhaps... perhaps you could come *here* today?" 

"Do you mean it?" 

"Of course, Mother. I --" 

"One moment. *Thea*! Get the Mercedes ready!" 

Bruce hears Thea presumably answering in the affirmative in the background -- 

And then Mother is giggling again. "Because you've been *so* sincere and good, I *won't* let Thea do the actual driving into the city." 

Bruce can't do very much about his relieved sigh and doesn't try. 

"Oh, Bruce, you *know* she makes me happy." 

"Yes, Mother. I always want you to be happy." 

"You mean that. You really..." She sighs again. "What are you getting me for Mother's Day, hmm?" 

"I thought we could visit a spa together, and then take in a show and have a late dinner --" 

"Perfect, but make it a... hmm... a mezze at the Star and Crescent. Your father is *not* invited." 

"It's your day, Mother. You can share it with whomever you like." 

This sigh is a *happy* one... "*Maybe* Harvey. Unless you can convince him to get Gilda pregnant so that he'll have to spend the day with her...?" 

Bruce frowns. "Harvey loves you very much, Mother --" 

"But he *doesn't* love the *spas*, darling. I'd feel terribly guilty if I made him primp and preen for hour after hour." 

Bruce nods. "That does make sense. I've always appreciated what a good mineral soak could do for my --" 

Don't say 'old injuries.' 

Of course -- "-- sense of well-being." 

Of course, you can't really show her all your *scars* -- 

True. Perhaps I'll be slightly 'ill' that day, and stay covered. 

Good call. 

" -- hair is just *terrible* --" 

"Mother." 

"I haven't had it colored in two *weeks*, Bruce!" 

"I've always found your grey to be wonderfully attractive and distinguished --" 

"But it's not *even*. Oh -- are you sure --" 

"Mother, I want you in my home." 

"Your home. Your -- oh, a part of me just *knew* that your home would always be with me." 

"Mother, I'm --" 

"No, *don't* apologize. We'll have a nice visit today, and then all of my pathetic angst will go away." 

"You could never be *pathetic* --" 

"You don't think so? Oh, why do I ask? Of *course* you don't think so. Perhaps you'll agree to trust me?" 

"I trust you with all that I *am*, Mother, and you could never be -- anyone who called you pathetic would have to be... blind or foolish. *Catastrophically* so." 

"I... Bruce, I love you -- oop, Thea's pulled up in front of the manor, and I look good *enough*, I think. We *won't* be going out, correct?" 

"Yes, Mother." 

"All right. Give me twenty minutes." 

"The traffic at this time of day --" 

"I *said* twenty *minutes*." 

Bruce blinks and licks his lips. "Yes, Mother. Please drive safely, Mother." 

"Hmph. Farewell and felicitations -- to both of us!" 

"Fare--" 

She hangs up.

Bruce strokes the receiver again before doing the same, and takes as fast a shower as he can justify to himself so as to give himself more time to choose an outfit -- oh. 

He uses the intercom to call Alfred -- 

"Is there a problem, Master Bruce?" 

"No, Alfred, but Mother is coming for a visit. I believe... I believe she's somewhat depressed." 

Alfred tuts. "Vanilla crepes and raspberry syrup it shall be, then. I trust you will not mind waiting for your own repast?" 

"Not at all, Alfred. Still... will you tell me what's wrong?" 

"Master Bruce." 

"I truly don't --" 

"You added *another* name to the list of people who know your true identity." 

"Ah... I believe he already knew, Alfred. He *is* a detective." 

"You -- believe."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "The only change I made in my behavior was to offer Jim a quieter, more sympathetic ear. He was... very troubled. And he believes Harvey to be too young to be a confidant." 

"But you did not tell him." 

"Alfred, I promise that the only thing I did was tone down my more mindless flirtatiousness --" 

"You... pushed the Fox aside." 

Bruce blinks. "It wasn't... he agreed to *step* aside, in the face of Jim's need." 

"Master Bruce, I believe you know what I am about to say." 

"Ah... is it something about my psychological problems." 

"*Yes*, sir." 

Throw me under the bus, Brucie. 

I don't -- 

*Do* it!

Bruce laughs. "Alfred, I think, in general, it's a *good* idea for me to make the Fox less real among my allies. I mean... don't you?" 

He thinks... he thinks he can feel Alfred blinking -- 

Oh, you totally can. Push it. 

Yes. "It seems... well. I'm capable of recognizing delusions when I have them. It... it occurred to me that I shouldn't allow people to help me *have* them. Now... I. This is not to say that I plan to be more myself with *everyone* 'the Fox' must meet -- that simply wouldn't be feasible. The people I have actual *conversations* with, however --" 

"Master *Harvey*, sir." 

Bruce closes his eyes. "Jim... Jim advised me to tell him. Before the lie grows even greater." 

"*Will* you?" 

"I don't --" 

No, don't lie about this. Forewarned is forearmed for Al, and he *needs* time to prepare for *this* shitstorm. 

As you say. "Alfred... I believe I must. Though I confess that I haven't the faintest idea of how to go about it." 

"I see. I will consider myself forewarned, then. If you would be so kind, Master Bruce, I would *vastly* appreciate it if you were to turn *all* parts of your mind to the question of how to confess your crimes as painlessly for Master Harvey as possible." 

Bruce blinks. "I... suppose I *do* tend to compartmentalize rather more than I should." 

"Is that honestly a *surprise*, sir...?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "Dinah suggested that I didn't do it *enough*... at least in some respects. However, to be fair, she very quickly came to believe that, perhaps, the other vigilantes compartmentalized too *much*." 

Alfred sniffs. "I have no doubt in your capacity to choose the wise with whom to surround yourself. Wear the cream suit." 

"I... you don't think it's too flashy?" 

"Your mother confessed to me that it is her favorite for you, as it tends to gift you with an air of carefree happiness." 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. "Thank you, Alfred." 

"You are quite welcome, sir. Please do not confess to Master Harvey *today*." 

"All right, Alfred." 

"*Thank* you. Dress quickly, as your mother has never been one to delay herself... gratification in the form of her children."

That hesitation... hm. "Yes, Alfred." And Bruce releases the button and lays out the suit, checking it over for minute flaws just as Alfred had taught him so many years ago. It always makes him want to have longer hair and a tan, but if Mother prefers it, then that's what she will have. 

Bruce shaves quickly and neatly, dabs on the rather frivolous, if flattering cologne -- it makes him smell of *sweet* musk -- Mother prefers on him, and dresses. 

The cream-colored shoes which go with the suit make him feel like a -- somewhat -- conservative pimp, but they *are* very comfortable, and they complete the look in a way none of his other shoes could. 

He neatens his hair, then, and stares at himself -- 

And wonders -- 

I think she knows more about our more incestuous thoughts than she's telling, Brucie. 

I don't. I don't want to have sex with Mother. 

Brucie, *please* remember who you're talking to? For a *minute*? 

Bruce frowns. Are there fantasies? 

Wanna see? 

I. Yes. And he closes his eyes -- 

And the Fox steps out of the black. He's wearing a rich brown suit which would look wonderful on Harvey, and which makes Fox look even more dangerous than he normally does. 

Still, all he does is take Bruce's hand in his own, rubbing their calluses together and squeezing firmly. 

Don't let go, Brucie.

I won't -- 

Don't. Let. Go. Not for anything, all right? Cover your face with your *other* hand when you need to. 

But -- what's the *danger*? 

These fantasies are buried *deep* in our psyche. They've only ever come out in your dreams. 

Not -- but you don't dream. 

I watch yours and plan and scheme to make myself better, stronger, faster... you know this. 

Yes, Fox, I do, but... are you saying I could become lost in these fantasies? 

It's more... well, 'here there be dragons,' you know? The id -- and I know you think Freud is flawed, but just go with me for a minute -- 

You *don't* think Freud is flawed? 

I live in *your* head, Brucie. I might as well be on the guy's couch a hundred or so years ago. 

Hm. Go on. 

Anyway, the id is a scary place in anyone. The top levels of your mind *never* really wanna face this shit. I mean, even when we're screwing someone like Dinah who *wants* us to be dirty and fucked-up, we're still barely scratching the surface. 

But -- if these fantasies are designed to only come out in dreams --

Then they should be safe, right? They're not. You're in danger of really *hating* yourself because of these, and that would be terrible. 

Do I -- I don't want to *hurt* Mother, do I?

No, no, nothing like that. But... The Fox sighs and shakes his head. These fantasies are going to make you look at yourself differently. You just need to hold on to me so we'll be able to make it back to the safe parts of your mind and the *Mission*. 

I'll never desert the Mission! 

Unless you start thinking you're not worthy of it. 

Bruce swallows and blinks rapidly. 

Yeah, that. Just remember that you *are* worthy of it, that *everyone's* id is a scary place, and that Dinah will *totally prove it to you* if you ask her if you can hypnotize her. 

I -- that's very intimate. 

Uh, huh. So was what we gave her last night. She feels like she owes us *big*. 

But -- the... her --

The titty-fucking was down payment, Brucie. Of course, we're *gonna* reassure her that she owes us nothing, and that we don't think that way, and etc. We just might have to do it a lot. I don't know, though. She *is* tough. 

Bruce nods. As soon as Mother -- 

No, give her the day to get some clean panties. We'll meet up with her tonight before heading to Central. 

All right. I -- I'm ready. 

Then come on, and the Fox leads them forward -- 

And the world smells like Chanel no. 22 and chocolate and milk and *woman*, the world is warm, silkier than any fabric could be, and Bruce's mouth is full, so wonderfully, perfectly *full* -- 

But he has to *tell* -- 

Bruce pulls back. 

"Darling, you're still *hungry*!" 

"Es, Mama. But I like your bests. Brets. *Breasts*." 

And Mama is blinking at him, and -- 

Thoughtful, he knows now that that expression is *thoughtful* -- 

And the world is dark and black again, cool and empty save for the Fox's heat. 

Do you see, Brucie?

I... I... she began to wean me then. 

Exactly. That was just a little too... well. 

Bruce frowns. I've always been creepy. 

The Fox squeezes his hand. Pretty much, but she loves us. More than... well, she loves us more than anyone. 

But -- Father -- 

Yeah, I... we'll talk about that later. Here. 

And he's in his bedroom, and the way his body feels -- he's no more than ten, because by the time he turned eleven, his feet stretched much further down the mattress. 

He looks up, and Mother is smiling at him, and stroking his face, and his cheeks, and his lips -- 

"Mother...?" 

"My little boychik. My perfect boy. Do you want a hug?" 

"*Always*, Mother!" 

And she sits on the side of the bed and pulls him up and close -- "You're getting so *big*!" 

"Father says it's entirely normal, Mother." 

"It is, it is, but it still makes me sad sometimes." 

"Oh -- Mother --" 

"Shh. It makes me *thrilled* *most* of the time," she says, pulling back and smiling at him. The light from the hall paints her right cheek with gold, and her eyes are crinkling at the corners. 

He reaches up to touch -- 

And she catches his fingers and kisses them, and bites them, and growls like a kitten until he giggles. 

"You won't be lonely *all* the time, Bruce. I *promise*." 

"I'm never lonely with *you*, Mother." 

She sighs, and pushes him down onto his back, and kisses his forehead goodnight. 

He closes his eyes -- 

He opens his eyes in the dream -- the world is fuzzed and *shifting* beyond the edges of the bed -- and she's beside him in the big, cool bed. She's warm, and she's wearing the striped boy's pajamas that make her hips seem so much rounder, and which make Father stammer and blush. 

She's sleeping beside him, and her pajama top is open the way it never is, and the wings of her collarbone are spare and slim, bird-like -- 

The air fills with the sound of absent wings -- 

And he realizes that he's hungry, that he's hungrier than he's ever been. 

He tugs on her fingers the way he hasn't done since he was three and weaned, and she smiles sleepily before she opens her eyes -- 

She opens her eyes and they're blue, the bluest blue, only silver-grey, only bright, only alive and warm and -- 

"Mama, *hungry*," and he knows how to speak English better than that, and he's *bigger* than that, and -- 

And she pulls him close and opens her pajama top more, and more -- 

And her breasts are round and full and *leaking*, heavy and -- and -- 

She's humming the feeding song, and the man he is knows that the song is "Dream A Little Dream of Me" but the boy is salivating, needing -- 

She pulls his head down --

She pulls his head down -- 

She pulls -- 

He opens his mouth -- 

His lips remember this warmth, this springy and shivery -- 

She *moans* the way he hasn't heard her do in years and years and -- 

And Bruce ejaculates -- 

And Bruce wakes up and ejaculates *more* -- 

And Bruce wakes *up* and squeezes the Fox's hand viciously, convulsively -- 

Don't worry, Brucie -- I'm not letting you get hard for this. 

I. I. She's so *beautiful* -- 

Yeah, she is. 

And I remember -- but her breasts aren't like that anymore.

They're heavier. A little bigger. Softer. 

*How* -- 

You've *hugged* her, Brucie. 

Bruce swallows and -- drags his free hand down from his face. Am I... am I aroused? 

Yeah. But -- 

You won't let me become erect. I -- thank you. 

The Fox nods. 

This... this isn't where it ends. Is it? 

The Fox shakes his head. 

There -- there is no end. 

She's Mom. 

Yes, and she is -- so beautiful. Where. Where else do I take this in my dreams? 

The Fox takes a deep breath. Here: 

And Bruce is deep in the rainforests of Brazil, sweating at a steady rate and tossing enough to only be barely asleep -- 

He knows that he could *be* awake at any moment -- 

But Mother's hand is cool on his forehead, small and dry and so *cool* -- 

"Poor little boychik..." 

"Mother, it's all right --" 

"Shh, you need to *sleep*." 

"Mother, I *miss* you, and I'm -- I'm so afraid --" 

"Shh, shh, shh..." 

And Bruce knows his cot isn't large enough for this, but she is curled against him, her body small and perfect, slight and *perfect*. She's wearing utterly impractical champagne-colored silk, and it's no cooler than her perfect skin. "May I hold you, Mother?" 

"Of *course* you can! That's why I'm here." 

"But you're *not* here --" 

And her fingers are firm and -- and *firm* against his lips -- 

And her eyes are wide and full of *mischief*, just like they always are when they have a secret to share between them, and he misses her, he *misses* her -- 

"I'm right here..." 

"I can't. I can't *feel* you enough, Mother!" 

"I know, perfect boy. Here..." 

And Bruce is naked -- 

And Mother is *touching* him. His chest and his cheeks and his arms and his thighs -- 

His abdomen and his feet and his scrotum -- "*Please*, Mother..." 

"So *big*. And this, too..." She cups his penis and squeezes it so -- so *firmly* -- 

Bruce moans desperately, needfully -- 

"Is this what you have for me, Bruce?" 

"Mother, I -- you're the only woman I've ever *loved*!" 

She sighs and bends to kiss him the way Harvey does -- 

"*Oh* --" 

"Sometimes, Bruce, you really are *just* like your father." 

"Do you -- will you love me the way you love him?" 

She smiles *wickedly* -- "Better." 

"Oh -- oh, Mother --" 

"Only the best for my baby. Only *ever* the best..." 

And for a moment her lips are Harvey's own, her mouth is broad and *full* -- 

But then it's smaller, and cooler, and -- and *sharper*, somehow -- 

Her small and wonderful teeth, so fox-like -- 

Her tight *throat* -- 

And Bruce groans and tears himself away, staggers *back* -- 

The Fox holds on *tightly* -- 

I don't -- I *don't* -- 

You *do*. And you have to -- that phone call -- God, I'm so sorry, brother, but you have to *deal* with this *before* you see her again. 

What -- what *about* the call? 

She's -- I never thought she'd go this far. 

What -- 

C'mon, Bruce, *work* with me!

I'd never touch her inappropriately! 

See, you thought the same thing about Harvey. And Dinah. And now there's Lex, and there *was* Selina, and -- we're losing control.

No -- not -- 

We *are*, Brucie! It's -- it's not all *bad*. We're making friends, and we have lovers, and it's all just gonna keep getting *better* -- I know it will -- but we have to pay a *price* for that. 

A... a price. 

*Yes*. We have to be more controlled than *ever* around Harvey -- until we tell him -- and we have to. We have to *know* ourselves around Mom. 

Mother -- Mother wouldn't *let* anything -- 

*Bruce*. 

You don't -- she wouldn't cheat on *Father* -- 

*Bruce* -- 

They're just fantasies! Dirty and -- and the desperate, unimaginative cravings of... of... a lonely and psychologically damaged adolescent -- 

Do you want me to *show* you what you were dreaming last night? 

Oh -- oh, *no* -- 

Because it got *real* interesting once Mom showed up to rip Dinah off our *dick*. 

But -- 

She's *jealous*, Bruce! She's -- God. She was our *only* lover other than Harvey for a *long* time and she *knows* it.

She doesn't -- 

She's *Mom*! She knows *everything*! And -- God, it makes her *happy* that we can lie to her effectively because that means we're more like *her*. 

Mother doesn't -- 

*Mom* has never, ever, *ever* loved Dad. But she says the words. 

Bruce recoils -- 

But the Fox is stronger than he is, the Fox can *hold* him --

And show him Mother turning away from Father's kiss to offer her cheek -- 

Her palm -- 

The *back* of her hand -- 

And here is their closed bedroom door -- and Father working in his study to all hours before retiring to one of the other bedrooms. 

And here is Father staring at Mother with longing and love and *need*, so *much* need -- 

While Mother holds her arms out to -- him. Bruce shudders -- 

You *know* all this already, Bruce. 

I don't -- want to. 

You don't -- oh, Bruce, you *have* to know how badly I want to keep this from you. I can -- I've kept it for *years*. 

Bruce covers his face -- no. Bruce turns to face the Fox and tries -- tries to fix his *expression* -- 

You don't have to be brave for me, Bruce. I *know* how awful this is -- 

I only. I *love* her, Fox!

And she loves you. More than anyone else in the world. From -- God, from the time you were *born*. She went... no, you do this. 

What -- 

Profile her, Bruce. You already started to with Lex. 

Bruce takes a deep breath and -- She never wanted to be married to Thomas Wayne. 

Exactly. 

She did it... she was forced to do it by her father and my paternal grandfather. They -- knowing them, she could have been disowned. 

Go on. 

She -- resents Father for this. So. So much. 

Yes. 

She... almost certainly only agreed to become pregnant due to external pressures... but. At some point during her pregnancy, she decided that I would be *her* child, and her child alone. She decided that she would take the dominant role in my upbringing, and also... hm. She may have started with the belief that her goal was to raise me to be happier and better adjusted than any other Kanes or Waynes, but, over time, it became far more important that I be hers. 

She never pushed us to make friends. Not really. 

But -- Bruce stops and takes another breath. She chose the people who would surround me socially. Right... right up until it was time for me to go to Exeter. The people she chose were never... palatable. Unless they were also some degree of shy or submissive. 

'Weedy,' say. 

Bruce nods. When I was a boy, she could be more... more casual with me. My devotion was assured. 

Uh, huh. 

Now... now my affections have been split in multiple directions. And she has become more... affectionate. More... openly loving. More grasping. More... manipulative. 

Not that there's anything all *that* wrong with it -- as far as it goes. 

Fox, I... do you think she *wants* to make love to me? 

I think that if you ever stray too far... Fox sighs. Don't make me say it. *Own* it so we can have some *control* over ourselves! 

Yes. Yes, I. If we -- 

*You*. 

If *I* were to ever stray too far, she would... seduce. And entice. And... it would all be mostly ambiguous. It would... Bruce swallows. In the state I'm in now, I would be. I. I only want her to be *happy*. 

With you. 

With -- with all of us. But. Also with me. 

The Fox pulls them to a warmer, brighter space within him. It's something of a ballroom, crowded with all the portraits Father had commissioned of Mother, and, of course, the marble Mother. 

The room is lit with a warm, golden shine which comes from everywhere and nowhere at once --

There are couches of several different shapes and styles around the edges of the room, and just the sort of fountain she loves best, and endless bookshelves -- 

And a warmly lit dance floor, where Mothers of various ages -- including one who appears even younger than Dinah -- are dancing, solitary and pleased and *waiting*. 

Even now, it's difficult not to let go of the Fox and go to her, to *all* of her -- 

She can't have us, Bruce. 

I. A part of me only wishes to ask why. 

But you know the answer. 

Bruce swallows again, and reaches towards the Mothers with his free hand -- he drops his hand and stands straight. "I cannot have Lex, or Dinah, or Selina if I have her." 

The Fox nods. And -- there's pretty much no one I can think of who'd sit still for that. Future lovers would be lost to us, too. Allies. Friends. Even if we kept it secret, kept *her* secret -- 

She would demand to know about all the others, and become jealous, and potentially dangerous. 

Yeah. I -- I don't wanna think about her this way, either, Brucie. 

No, I... I know. But it's important that we know ourselves and our loves as best as we can. But... is there a way I can make her happy, Fox? 

I think so. I think we have to get her used to us having other lovers, but we can do that without neglecting her. If we *show* her that... 

Then she will, perhaps, draw back to a more appropriate level of affection herself. 

Uh, huh. Now what are you gonna do if she tries to seduce you? 

I want. I want very badly to kiss her. I want to *have* that. 

Oh, Bruce. Do you want to tease her?

Oh -- *no*!

Do you want to make *her* face her thoughts and fantasies and dreams about you? 

No, I -- but you said she already knows -- 

I said she knows more than she's *saying*. I... she's too good a woman to have done this to us *entirely* consciously. Right?

Is that a question, Fox? 

I -- there are still things I don't *know* that well. Places and things I haven't *seen* -- 

I don't -- she never *abused* -- 

And you were born creepy, besides. But she knows that she could've behaved more appropriately with us, and encouraged us to find love *outside* the family -- 

Oh. This... it's one of the reasons why she pushed to adopt Harvey. 

She knew you'd never go far with him there. Well -- she thought she knew that. 

Bruce nods. I won't kiss her. Not -- ever. 

We can hold her. We can hold her almost all we want. 

And -- make her giggle. 

Damned right. 

Bruce nods again. I'm ready. 

I know, but I like holding your hand. 

Bruce smiles helplessly, and squeezes the Fox's hand hard. 

The Fox squeezes back -- and tugs Bruce into the light. 

Specifically, the bathroom fluorescents, which make him look even more pale than usual. Bruce takes a Vitamin D and considers taking Mother into the sun room to eat -- no, she doesn't like being in daylight when she thinks she doesn't look perfect. 

The dining room -- and, perhaps, the study -- it will have to be. 

Bruce stops in the kitchen to squeeze Alfred's shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and then heads down to the garage to wait. It doesn't take long, at all, for Mother to pull up in her burgundy Mercedes with the pearl grey interiors. Bruce waits for her to cut off the engine and undo her safety belt, and then opens the door for her. 

She hums and smiles up at him from under her lashes -- 

And Bruce realizes that he'd gotten similar looks from both Dinah and Selina. It is... coquettish, and thus perhaps inappropriate for a woman in her late fifties -- 

He doesn't care. 

He doesn't -- 

"Mother, it's wonderful to see you," Bruce says, and he can hear the need in his voice, and the hunger and *urge* -- 

Mother's eyes come over with shadows -- but they're gone in an instant as she stands and wraps her arms around Bruce's neck. "It's *always* wonderful to see *you*, darling. Kiss me!" 

And her mouth -- 

Her mouth is small, and bowed, and -- 

And not for him. He pulls her closer and kisses her cheek softly and dryly -- 

She *presses* close and -- she's done this before. She *has* -- but only when he's been out of the country for extended periods of time. She -- 

I'm here, Brucie. I'll *help*. 

Yes. Yes, I'll need that. 

After a moment to enjoy her scent -- 

After a moment to wallow and *need* -- he pushes back and offers her his arm. 

She frowns slightly... and then gives him a rueful look. 

"Mother?" 

"Who's been telling you how to behave, hmm? I know it wasn't *Harvey*." 

"Harvey often does just that, Mother --" 

"But *not* about our relationship," Mother says, and takes Bruce's arm. "Lead on, boychik." 

Bruce blinks. "You haven't called me that in quite a while." 

Mother reaches over to rub Bruce's biceps through the jacket with her free hand. "It's a mother's prerogative to miss her baby boy... even when her *grown* baby boy is right there beside her. Let's *go*." 

"Yes, Mother." Bruce leads them to the dining room, where Alfred is waiting next to the laden smaller table. 

Mother hugs and kisses him lightly, and allows him to pull out her chair for her. Bruce sits down opposite her, and thanks Alfred for his care and attention -- and compliments him on the scents coming from their crepes. 

He's also provided a fair amount of *sweetened* yogurt for them to consume, and a pot of Lady Grey, which is Mother's favorite. Mother exclaims with pleasure -- 

And they both breathe more easily when Alfred has left, though that hardly seems correct -- 

And Mother is gesturing him to begin eating. He does so, and watches her the way he always does, taking her moments of thoughtful pleasure for his own, and taking her small *sounds* of pleasure -- 

To provide a soundtrack for your fantasies, Brucie. 

Bruce winces internally -- 

You knew that. 

Yes, I did. I can see... how easy it is to lose myself. I will do better. 

I know you will, brother. 

And Bruce paces himself perfectly enough that he's chewing the last bite of his first crepe just as Mother is putting her utensils down. She -- 

"Bruce. Tell me *who*." 

Bruce swallows. "Harvey *has* tried to get me to listen to... hmm... a *kind* of reason about you -- but not in many years." 

Mother frowns lightly and nods. 

"Selina teased me somewhat mercilessly about how much I spoke about you." 

*Slightly* narrowed eyes -- 

Bruce swallows a sip of his tea. "Lex... Lex knows me -- and himself -- well enough to know that he could never separate me from you." 

Mother blinks -- and then cocks her head shrewdly. 

"He knows he will never be more beautiful in my eyes than you are." 

Mother... colors. It's not a blush. It's not -- 

Keep it steady, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes. Bruce takes another sip -- a swallow -- of tea and then sets his cup down on the saucer. "Mother... we have spoken and behaved inappropriately with each other." 

"Oh, Bruce, don't be *silly* --" 

"Mother. Please."

"Don't -- darling, don't *beg* me that way. It's unseemly." 

"*We* are unseemly, Mother. And I wonder... I only wonder how Father feels about it." 

Mother gives him a narrow look -- and dabs at the corners of her perfectly painted mouth with her napkin. "Boychik... I don't think you *really* want to talk about this." 

"Oh, Mother... I don't. I would much prefer it if we went on as before, holding each other and flirting *mostly* innocently --" 

"*Bruce*!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- 

"You look -- you look too much like Thomas when you do that." 

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment -- and nods before opening them again. "Did you ever love him?" 

"Did you?" 

Bruce feels the Fox *wanting* to smile -- I can do this, Fox. 

If you're sure -- 

Yes. 

I'm still right here. 

*Bruce* smiles ruefully. "He was never so easy to love as you, Mother. He was... distant much of the time." 

"*Chilly*. *Correct*. *Staid*." 

Bruce nods. "All of those things are true, in their way, but Mother... he gave me a companion with whom to love and worship *you*." 

This time, the color in her cheeks *is* a blush. 

"Has he ever apologized for loving you too much to keep his father and your own from... bundling you into marriage?" 

Mother pushes her chair back and crosses her legs at the knee -- and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. 

Warm, soft, *heavy* -- "Mother..." 

"He *offered* to break it off with me. He... he honestly believed our fathers would allow that to happen." 

"Mother... I'm so sorry." 

"It's not *your* fault --" 

"And yet, as man of both Kane and Wayne lineage, I feel I must apologize." 

"Oh, Bruce, don't --" Mother sighs and turns away -- 

Shows her soft *cheek* -- 

"Mother. Please." 

"Bruce -- what do you want from me?" And she turns to look at him again. 

"This. I --" 

"Awkward, painful conversations about how terribly *damaged* we are?" 

"Time alone with you during which we can be as honest as humanly possible. Your... your beautiful eyes on mine." 

"And yet you feel -- no. We have... 'unseemly' is the least of our crimes against -- against decency," she says, and frowns. 

"Mother, I don't feel. I don't feel wronged. I never *could*." 

"But other people have caused you to *think* -- oh, darling, I thought you never would. I *knew* you never would." 

Bruce nods slowly. 

"I suppose... I suppose this was inevitable." 

"Mother?" 

She smiles at him warmly and darkly at *once* -- "Sometimes, I dearly wish your Father hadn't convinced me to quit smoking." 

"It's a terrible --" 

"Habit, yes. I..." Mother shakes his head. "I knew about you and Harvey, Bruce. I *always* knew." 

"Mother, I told you --" 

"And now I know what an *excellent* liar I've raised. Darling, I raised you to be the lover I actually *liked*. The lover I could actually *have*. How could you think I *wouldn't* know?" 

Told ya so. 

So you did. I... Bruce shakes his head. "It seemed best to lie." 

Mother smiles wryly. "It was. It was. Your *father* never knew, and would never believe if it if he were told. But then if something happened to *make* him believe... well, he'd make Les find a family therapist to cart us all off to." 

"And... that wouldn't do, at all, no. Mother... would you tell me *why* you raised me this way?" 

"Do you have complaints?" 

"Only... only that I doubt my ability to love anyone as much and as deeply as I've loved you and Harvey." 

She closes her eyes and smiles sharply -- 

She opens her eyes, and the blue is hot, bladed and *hot* -- 

"Mother --"

"I thought he would keep you with us, you know." 

Bruce frowns and nods. "The thought has... occurred."

"I thought... I don't understand everything about you, boychik." 

"Mother?" 

"I know what a good liar you are, though. I know... I know you'll never be mine." 

"I'm your *son* --" 

"And *you* have eaten the forbidden fruit." 

"Mother, *please* --" 

"Don't *beg*, boychik, I -- do you know what I was going to do today?" 

Bruce frowns. "No, Mother." 

"I was going to demand that you tell me increasingly perverse things about your new lovers until I either blushed my way to an early coronary or..." 

Bruce swallows. "'Or'...?" 

"Or touched you," she says, and pinches the bridge of her nose -- 

Drops her hands and stands, paces -- 

Stops by his *chair* -- and rests her small, perfect hand on his shoulder. 

Bruce covers it with his own -- 

And she shivers. "You're so much more beautiful than he is. You're my *perfect* boy, and I..." She smiles down at him and squeezes his shoulder. "There was a moment when I was jealous of Harvey, of course. You had only just *begun* looking like enough of an adult that I could dream... and there was Harvey -- *lovely* Harvey -- doing all the things I could never, ever do." 

Bruce -- Bruce swallows a moan as best as he *can*, but -- 

"Shh. It didn't happen. It... well. He was our gift to you, darling. *My* gift to you, because while your father was altogether willing to buy you a friend at that point, he was *wildly* opposed to stealing a child from another parent." 

"Harvey's biological father was *terrible*!" 

"Oh, yes. But... think for a moment, darling boy, would you?" 

Bruce swallows and stares up into her eyes -- 

Do it, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes. "He. He wanted to get the man help. And -- any sort of help he could give?" 

"Mm-hm. It was *interminable* -- even *before* the little weasel tried to blackmail us." 

"*What* --" 

She waves her other hand. "He was a terrible little man -- emphasis on *both* the terribleness and the diminutiveness. He never could have hurt us -- especially since you and Harvey *hadn't* actually begun making love at that time. However, despite his petty awfulness, he was still holding up the adoption process horribly solely by *existing*. Your father was actually making Les find family therapists for *him*." 

Bruce swallows and nods. "But you... did something." 

Mother smiles, proud and sharp, at once. "Did I...?" 

"You... Harvey always said that his middle school teachers presented something of a united front to the Division of Youth and Family Services about the abuse he suffered. Harvey always... he said it was what made him such a good student. More of one, even, than he'd already been." 

Her smile gets *wider*...

"You paid them." 

"And blackmailed the ones who wouldn't take the money. *Everyone* has a peccadillo or two, boychik." 

Bruce shivers -- 

And Mother strokes his cheek -- specifically, the spot on his jaw which seems to *mock* his sharpest razors. 

"Mother..." 

"I will do *anything* for you, Bruce. Anything, at all. Anything you *need*. Anything you *want*." 

Bruce looks up into her eyes, and they are almost *steely* now. They -- "I believe you." 

Mother laughs. "That's it? You *believe* me?" 

"I'm. I believe I'm somewhat afraid, Mother." 

"Afraid of me?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "Perhaps... more afraid of the world which has shaped you." 

"Oh, Bruce. I've never been a saint." 

"Of course not. Saints are -- well, they were almost universally *mad* --" 

"I think, sometimes, that I must be mad." 

"Oh, *no*, Mother --" But she stops him with firm, slim fingers on his mouth. 

She -- 

She feels so -- 

The Fox *rears* within him -- but doesn't push forward. You can do this, brother. We *need* you to do this. 

Yes. Yes, I. I must be strong. 

I'm here for you. 

Bruce breathes through his nose and looks up to meet his Mother's eyes again. Her lips are parted, and her color is high -- 

She is so *beautiful*, so -- a 'heart'-shaped face with strong, sharp cheekbones and a point to her chin. Wide-set eyes and her mouth, her -- 

Her beauty *is* faintly vulpine, though less so than it was when Bruce was a boy. Her hair is swept up as it always is, and he wants it down, want to see that, to run his fingers through it -- 

And he knows the Fox is keeping him from becoming erect. He -- 

For a moment he can only *resent* that. Mother should *know* how beautiful and perfect she is! How affecting and *wonderful* -- 

She shivers again and pulls her hand back. "I waited too long." 

He can't. There's nothing he can *say*. 

"I waited too long and I'll never... never..." She bites her lip and *hugs* herself -- 

Bruce can't -- 

He stands and pulls her close, burying his face in her hair and stroking her back -- 

No, cupping her waist -- 

No, her back, *only* her back -- 

And, for a long time, she only stands there stiffly. There -- there's no *give* -- 

Until she sobs once and throws her arms around his neck, holding on *tightly*. She doesn't weep. 

She doesn't -- 

She holds him, and Bruce holds her back, and tries to *think* -- 

We have to prove to her -- 

That we'll never truly let her go, yes. *How*, Fox?

Being there. And -- time. It will take time, I think. 

But you don't know. 

She's *Mom*. I'm not even gonna *try* to predict what happens after this. 

And -- we still can't tell her. 

No, Brucie. We... maybe someday. When she feels better about us, and -- I don't know. I don't think so. 

Bruce pulls her closer still, and they shiver together, they -- 

They *know* things together, and -- 

And one of the things Bruce knows is that he can please her, that he can pleasure her *and* give her happiness. 

A happiness she may not have had since before her marriage to his father. 

Other people can give her that happiness, Bruce. She -- you know Dad would *cope* if she took a lover. 

Yes. But I can't. I can't want that. 

No, I know, I -- 

And Mother pushes away from him. Not -- not *far*, but -- 

It's still very hard not to clutch at her. She -- 

"My beautiful son. I think... I think it's time for us to finish breakfast." 

"Are you sure --" 

She reaches up and pats his cheek. "I'm *absolutely* sure. Thea is *terrible* at making crepes." 

"They... they do seem to have a certain brick-like texture when she prepares them." 

Mother snorts and covers her face for a moment before moving her hand and shaking a finger at him.

"Yes, Mother?" 

"She's a *wonderful* cook and a *wonderful* woman and if you make me act too unladylike, I'll... I'll tell her you *wouldn't* tell me all about your new loves." 

Bruce suspects he looks *stricken* -- 

But Mother's eyes are twinkling and bright, warm and *bright* -- 

And, when Mother giggles, Bruce remembers how inferior the sound is over the telephone, and pulls her close once more -- 

"*Oof* --" 

"It's only -- I love that *sound*, Mother." 

"Oh, darling. You and Thea are the *only* ones who bring it out of me. What that says about *me*... is a conversation for another day," she says, and pats his back briskly. "*Breakfast*." 

And so Bruce lets her go and returns to the table, pushing in her chair once she's seated and sitting down once more. They eat in a companionable silence that gradually becomes more and more *confusing* -- 

How must he act? 

What will she want to hear from him?

What does she *need* from him that he *can* give? 

Follow her lead, Brucie. This -- we owe her that. 

It's the *least* of what we owe -- 

That, too. 

Bruce pours her more tea -- 

"Just a half cup, darling." 

Bruce frowns. "But it's your favorite." 

"Mm-hm. Unfortunately, my bladder rather disagrees with it these days." 

"Is that -- are you all right?" 

Mother smiles wryly once more. "I am perfectly fine, darling. And fifty-eight years old. The muscles, as your father explained at *length*, weaken *everywhere*." 

"Still --" 

She holds up a hand. "We will *not* discuss my withering body at the breakfast table. Or anywhere else." 

"But --" 

"Darling boy, you won't make love with me even though we *both* know how wonderful it would be. I *don't* need to feel any older." 

"But -- oh, Mother, it's not because of your *age* --" 

"Bruce --" 

"You're the most beautiful woman in the *world* --" 

"And *you*... are going to start telling me about your lovers." 

Bruce blinks and swallows. "I. Are you *sure*?" 

She giggles again -- and covers her mouth. "I want something to *think* about while the lovely ladies in my social circle -- the ones whose husband's have the *deepest* pockets for the Foundation -- come up with insipid and painfully dull 'insights' about whatever godawful bestseller we're supposed to be reading this month. So. Start with Selina." 

Bruce shakes his head. "She really... well. She moved to Star City, Mother." 

Mother blinks rapidly -- 

Bites the tip of her tongue -- 

"You're allowed to laugh." 

"I would *never* laugh at my darling, perfect, beautiful --" She snorts again -- 

*Coughs* -- 

And takes a deep swallow of tea before humming. "*Did* the two of you get to make love before you terrified her?" 

*Yes* -- 

No, Brucie. 

"I'm afraid not. Though... I must admit that I considered the matter at length." 

She gazes at him fondly, warmly -- 

Bruce smiles helplessly -- 

"*Is* she your type for women? Tallish, athletic, and -- ah -- pneumatic?" 

*Bruce* coughs -- 

And Mother winks at him. "*Tell* me, darling." 

"I -- well. I was struck by her beauty right away, of course, but..." Bruce shakes his head. "It was only when I found myself with reason to study her... background more deeply that I truly became *interested*." 

"Her conversation didn't do it...?" 

"She was interesting and well-read, and I always appreciate that, but she was also lying the entire time she was at the party." 

Mother blinks -- and then nods shrewdly. "Social mendacity is, of course, still mendacity." 

"Yes, Mother." 

"Are *you* the only one allowed to tell lies, darling...?" 

Bruce blushes. "Of course not, Mother. I... I do need to know whether the lies are well-meant, though." 

Another fond smile. "I wish your father... well. Tell me about Lex?" 

"He... he calls me 'darling.'" 

Mother blinks more -- "It's part of the appeal...?" 

"Yes. He... he can pull on very feminine traits, at times. He... wore lavender for me. And eyeliner." 

"What did you wear for him?" 

"Black." 

Mother bites her lip *gently* -- stops. "I already know that isn't your usual type for men." 

"Harvey and Lex are far too different to compare, Mother. But... Lex is very accepting. Welcoming." 

"Of your kinks -- oh, but you already said that he *understood* your feelings for me." Mother hums. "*Did* he have his father murdered?" 

"Yes." 

Mother stares at him, which tends to mean that Bruce needs to say more than he already has. 

"His bodyguards... he surrounds himself with deeply psychologically troubled assassins. He's attracted to all of them, and two of the three are his lovers. And all of them, he said, occasionally remind him of his father." 

Mother blinks. And stares more. 

"I... he has promised to turn over a new leaf in terms of his criminal activities." 

Mother squeezes her eyes shut -- and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

"Are you --" 

She holds up a hand. 

Bruce waits, and watches her breathe meditatively slowly, chest rising and falling -- 

Stop looking at her breasts, Brucie. 

Oh -- dear. All right. He studies the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, instead, and dreams of touching them with his --

Still no, Brucie. 

Do you think you'll be able to regulate my dreams, Fox? 

Almost certainly not. I... did you want me to *try*? 

No, I. I want for there to be a place where I can have this. Where we can both have this. 

The Fox is silent for a long moment, but it's a pregnant silence. He is thinking as deeply as Mother is, and so Bruce waits, and sips his own tea. 

And tries to estimate the length of Mother's hair. She hasn't worn it down in his presence since he was too young to notice such things -- 

I think. I think *maybe* you can tell her what happens in your dreams. Not all of it! Just -- just that she lives there with you, and you can be happy together there. 

Bruce swallows and looks up -- and Mother is staring at him wryly again, *curiously* -- "Mother. Mother, you're in my dreams." 

She parts her lips and colors -- "Bruce..." 

"It. It's been all my life. And I didn't... I denied those dreams for a long time. I denied them so much that most of my conscious mind could believe they didn't exist." 

"But... not anymore." 

Bruce shakes his head and doesn't look away. "You live in my dreams, and we're together --" 

"And happy?" 

"Yes, Mother." 

Mother sighs and nods slowly. "Perhaps I'll have dreams of my own, tonight." 

Bruce nods -- 

And Mother pushes her plate aside and leans her elbows on the table and her pointed chin on her laced fingers. "Lex is good in bed...?" 

"Yes, Mother. He... he told me that he had been fantasizing about me for twelve years, and... that certainly seems to have been the case." 

She looks *delighted*. "He built his empire and then decided to take his consort...?" 

Bruce blinks. "I don't... I believe... hm." 

"Yes?" 

"He... did mention a fantasy which involved my being female at least some of the time." 

Mother chokes. "Oh, my." 

"I don't think I'd make a very attractive woman, Mother." 

Mother *titters* -- and coughs that away. "Ah... no. I do believe you're even larger and more exclamatorily *male* than all of those kilted highland dwellers in your father's ancestry." 

The lengthy breastfeeding almost certainly helped -- don't say that.

All right, Fox -- 

"Tell me about *Dinah*." 

"She's quite young in terms of years, but has very obviously led an interesting life. She is scarred from her travels and studies -- the martial arts, I believe -- and very beautiful." 

Mother raises an eyebrow. "*How* young...?" 

"Seventeen." 

Mother's jaw drops somewhat --" 

"She's placed out of school and owns her own business." 

"The florist shop." 

"Yes --" 

"How *close* are we to getting blackmailed by *her* parents, darling?" 

"Ah... not very, Mother. Both of her parents are deceased, and her -- former -- guardian is Ted Grant --" 

"The *boxer*? How close are you to getting your lovely *nose* broken?" 

"Again, not very, as my research -- and Dinah's own words -- suggest that he's quite liberal about such things." 

Mother raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh -- I suppose that sounded unsavory." 

"Mm-hmm." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "She's a very liberal young woman with a seemingly endless array of kinks... and I don't think she's been abused. She doesn't respond in any of the ways I've studied. Not truly." 

"But *somewhat*...?" 

"She *has* been generous with her affections, and she *is* young for that sort of thing, but -- it was her wisdom, acumen, and strength of character which attracted me, Mother. I don't believe she would have quite so much -- deserved -- respect for herself were she allowing herself to be abused." 

"And her friends...?" 

"Some of *them* sound unsavory in terms of the shallow research I've done, but I'm doing my best to keep an open mind, as Dinah has kept an open mind with me." 

"Does she know about us?" 

"No, Mother. But she will." 

Mother frowns and turns away -- 

"Mother --" 

"No. I..." She takes a deep breath and turns back to him. "Let me be your secret, darling. Let me... let us live together *solely* in our dreams." 

"I'm not *ashamed* of you, Mother. I could *never* be --" 

"I know that, darling. I think I've always known that, and I know it even better now," she says, and dabs at her eyes -- no tears fall before she's taking another breath and giving him a *hard* look. "Don't let me chase away *any* of your lovers, Bruce." 

Bruce opens his mouth -- 

You know what she means. 

I *don't* -- 

You do. 

I don't -- want to. 

I know, Brucie, but -- you have to. 

It seems so *much* -- 

"Oh, darling. You *already* toned yourself down with me to keep Harvey from becoming uncomfortable. You did it *effortlessly* once you realized what the problem was. This is the very same thing." 

Bruce swallows. "It. It doesn't feel the same, Mother." 

She reaches across the table and tucks her hand under his own. "It is." 

Bruce squeezes her hand. "I... all right, Mother. I'll take your advice." 

She nods and smiles at him. "My perfect boy." 

"Beautiful Mother." 

She *hums* a sigh -- and then takes her hand back and stands. 

"Mother?" 

"It's time for me to go pretend I give a *fig* about shopping and *lunching* and *gossiping*, darling. Up! It's *also* time for another hug." 

"Yes, Mother," Bruce says, and follows orders, kissing her soft, powdered cheek and squeezing her close until she pats his back and pulls away. 

"When are you going to Metropolis again?" 

When I've retrieved Lex's daughter from an assassin -- "I'm not sure, Mother. I was thinking of inviting Lex here." 

"Well. If you do that? We *have* to meet. And the same goes for your Dinah. Unless... is she one of those people who get intimidated by the ridiculously wealthy?" 

"I'm not sure *anything* could intimidate her, Mother." 

"Hmph. I'll still meet her *without* your father *first*. Thomas requires some *preparation*. Of course, so do *you*... well," she says, and pats Bruce's cheek. "Farewell and felicitations, perfect boy. Call me as *soon* as you pick up another lover or three." 

"*Mother* --" 

But she's already walking away and waving as she goes.

Bruce doesn't let himself watch her walk. He -- 

He gathers the dishes, instead.


	17. Chapter 17

The Haines building has been crumbling from the inside out since Bruce was a child. Bruce bought it to keep it from being used as a staging area to attack Central, but has done little with it other than filling it with alarms and surveillance equipment. That's going to have to change, considering how close Dinah comes to falling when a chunk of the balustrade lets go under her weight as she climbs up. 

Bruce catches her arm, but -- 

But she's wearing black tights. And an -- armored -- black top that shows and caresses her shape but exposes no *flesh*. Additionally, she's wearing a black domino, and her *real* hair -- short, black, and somewhat wild -- is exposed. Her belt -- obviously well-stocked -- is as gold as the Fox's sash is scarlet. There is no jacket to hamper her movement, and she is still wearing his boots. He reaches to touch her cheek -- 

"Heh. I bet you didn't recognize me." 

"I. The way you move is distinctive. You look wonderful." 

"Yeah, yeah. I haven't decided about the hair. Or -- really about anything else. I... um. Check it out," she says, and turns to expose her back, where there is a stylized -- and rather dramatically raptor-esque -- gold canary stitched into the sleek fabric of her top. "What do you think?" 

Bruce traces the canary with his fingertips. "Beautiful." 

She huffs out a breath. "So -- is it like what you were designing for me?" 

"My own designs exposed your shoulders," Bruce says, and strokes her there. "But only because I didn't think that you would ever agree to something like this." 

She smiles at him wryly. "I'm *experimenting*, Bruce." 

"Of course." 

"I don't even know if I -- I mean, it's not like I *don't* have twenty corsets and fifty-five new pairs of fishnets back home." 

"I understand. I won't pressure you in any --" 

"I look completely badass, don't I." 

The Fox leers and waggles his eyebrows. "Gorgeous, you make me want to *try* to bend you over something tall and *padded*." 

Dinah puts her fists on her hips and cocks them. "'Try'...?" 

"You look," the Fox says, and strokes two fingers over the tops of her hidden breasts, "like someone who would put up a hell of a fight." 

Dinah licks her teeth. "Is *that* the way you wanna play tonight, Foxy?" 

"Gorgeous, I was *born* wanting to play that way," and he reaches to cup her left breast at speed -- 

She blocks him and jabs for his sternum -- 

He blocks her and moves for a tackle -- 

She quick-steps back and does a *very* pretty back-flip into a *mule* kick -- 

He dodges and aims a side-kick at her midriff -- miss -- 

And one at her knees -- miss -- 

And one at her head --

She bends under it and aims a kick at his *genitals* -- 

He quick-steps -- "Ah-ah-ah, gorgeous. Don't make Daddy have to *spank*, now..." 

She snorts and *closes*, throwing strikes at a speed that makes Fox harder and *hungrier* -- 

But the sun has just slipped below the horizon. He catches her wrists, left then right. "Time." 

She pouts -- beautifully. 

"*Hold* that thought, gorgeous." 

"Oh -- fine. *Fine*. Um. Are you sure I look --" 

"Be *prepared* for Harvey's eyes to pop a little, gorgeous. Jim, now... I'm not sure *what* he'll do." 

"But I *look* respectable?" 

The Fox kisses her hands, releases them, and strokes down the short bridge of her nose. "The domino adds a good seven years, Canary. You should consider keeping it no matter *what* else you wind up wearing." 

She bites her lip for a moment -- and then nods decisively and runs off the edge of the roof, shooting her line in flight. The Fox *follows* -- 

And they land on Central's roof *just* as Jim and Harvey are walking out the roof access door. 

Harvey grins at him... and then *subtly* looks Canary -- who is standing tall and silent at his side -- over. His pleasure is *intensely* visible to every part of him for all that he's holding it banked, and Bruce can't help feeling both proud and thrilled. 

He would *happily* share Dinah with Harvey, if they both desired it -- 

He longs to *convince* -- 

It can't happen, Brucie, and -- 

It's time for you, yes. Bruce subsides -- 

And the Fox pulls on his *filthiest* grin and sashays up to sugar-daddy --

And Jim thrusts a stack of file folders between them. 

"Jimmy, *Jimmy*, we've *talked* about the cockblocking --" 

"*Read* them, Fox. Those are the bent cops Montoya is sure about," Jim says, and then turns to Canary. "Black Canary the second." 

"Just Canary's fine, Commissioner," she says, pitching her voice low. 

Jim nods. "Do I get to ask how old you are?" 

"No." 

Jim sighs -- but there's a smile in his eyes. "Fine. Fox trusts you, so I'm trusting you, too. *Provisionally*. *Don't* give me a reason not to." 

She lifts her chin -- "Wasn't planning on it," she says, and turns to Harvey. "Next-DA Harvey Wayne. Nice to meet you." 

"Hey, hey, don't jinx me, lady --" 

"Canary." 

"And I can absolutely call you by the name of an annoying little yellow bird only aging spinsters like, because I am a *modern* man of the eighties *and* I know my place." 

Dinah is visible past the blankly professional *wall* of Canary in the helpless twitch at the corners of her mouth -- 

Harvey *winks* -- 

"*Harvey*," Jim barks -- 

And Harvey winces and raises his hands. "And right now my place is way over *there*, shutting the hell up, because I don't even *know* what kind of evidence to tell you people to track down, yet," he says, and heads over to the corner of the roof. 

Fox takes a moment to check out his ass -- 

Jim *growls* -- 

And the Fox opens the first file where Canary can see it. She pulls a small, powerful penlight out of her belt to make things easier, and -- 

There isn't much. Pictures, service records, addresses, crimes Montoya's sure about, crimes she's *almost* sure about, and crimes she can *smell*. 

A handful of known hang-outs. 

A list of the officers who'd requested transfers from the Fifteenth since Torn had been raised to lieutenant. 

A list of the dealers who'd gone missing in the six months since she'd been assigned to the Fifteenth -- and a sickeningly long list of John Does found in the Fifteenth and buried in Gotham's four Potter's Fields over the past *year*. 

Canary strokes the earliest date with her gloved fingers. "Who's being conservative?" 

"Montoya," Jim says, and pats his empty cigarette pocket. "She claims that she doesn't think the murders have been going on that long." 

"But you don't believe her, Jimmy?" 

"She's a good kid and has the makings of a good police, but the job still has a shine for her, so she thinks it does for *every* police," and he looks at them. "Do you people have any idea what I'm talking about?" 

Canary looks up. "You're saying she still has a little too much faith in humanity, Commissioner?" 

"You're saying you *don't*?" 

Canary shows her teeth. "Which of us is wearing body armor?" 

Jim looks at her for a long moment -- and then laughs quietly. "All right. Call me Jim." 

It's an offer *he'd* never gotten -- 

"Don't be jealous, Foxy," Harvey says from the edge of the roof without turning. "I'm *sure* you'd look just as good with a big, yellow target on your back." 

Jim glares at *Harvey's* back --

"And I'm shutting up again. Yup. Not sayin' one little word over here." 

Fox resists the urge to leer -- 

Bruce resists the urge to *touch* -- 

And Fox pulls White's file from the stack. He's a rather *exceedingly* pretty black man in his early thirties with a white, beautiful smile in his latest department photo. He'd received a commendation for bravery three years ago, and doesn't have a single spot on his record. Montoya's information about him is full of hunches and speculation. She was right about his drug use, but she had assumed cocaine. The Fox hands the file back to Jim -- 

"What do you know that I don't?" 

"He *might* just be a weak link, Jimmy-boy. The word on the street is that he's hooked -- on speed -- through the proverbial *bag*."

"Lots of speed freaks know how to keep their mouths shut, Fox." 

"True... but not when they're *also* as short-eyed as everyone who's *anyone* thinks he is." 

Jim rears back -- "No." 

Canary steps forward. "We got the word from two dealers from different gangs... and three pimps." 

Jim's nostrils flare. "Burn him. *Tonight*." 

Harvey turns. "Jim --" 

"I will let you use every red cent you can get hold of to *bury* him until we can take the rest of them down. As far as we know..." Jim nods to himself. "As far as *anyone* knows, he's helping us take down a pedophile ring. Any questions?" 

Harvey raises his hand. "Am I allowed to bring in the fibbies for this? They've got that shiny new Child Predator department, and I know a few guys who can *help* us keep this asshole under wraps." 

Jim scowls -- 

And Harvey moves close. "I know you don't want too many people in on this, Jim, but we *have* to keep it aboveboard --" 

"Make the calls. *Right* now." 

"I'm gone," Harvey says, and hurries inside -- 

And Jim turns to them. "He's been off-shift for an hour. What are you two waiting for?" 

"Permission to be *mean*-spirited, Jimmy --" 

"You have it. *Go*." 

The Fox pulls Canary close, kisses her nose, and flies. 

It takes less than five minutes to get to their bikes -- Canary had known *exactly* where the Fox would park -- and then they're moving, letting their engines growl their way east through the city. 

White lives in a freshly gentrified neighborhood only about a mile from the docks. He has a loft in an apartment building built when James Richard Kane II was using hired muscle to keep the dockworkers from unionizing and tying up the area for the Democratic party machine of the late nineteenth century. He'd died without any kids of his own, and, by all reports, was a vicious, backstabbing toad to absolutely everyone save his niece -- Bruce's great-grandmother, and eventual lady slumlord for the entire neighborhood. 

The Fox shares none of this information with Dinah. There are other things. He toggles the helmet radio -- "What's *your* protocol for kiddy rapists, gorgeous?" 

"Try to hurt them badly enough that they lose at least one ball and four or five teeth." 

"Nose?" 

"Fine." 

"Kneecaps?" 

"Fine." 

"Very, *very* close shaves...?" 

A moment's hesitation that lengthens -- 

Lengthens... 

"If. If we catch him with one, I won't say boo to anything that leaves him able to talk and -- limp." 

The Fox grins. "I *promise* not to disappoint," he says, and takes his bike up to seventy-five. 

She's beside him again in an instant -- 

And they're there in less than ten minutes. They stash their bikes in an alley and take to the rooftops, which are close enough together in this neighborhood that there's no need for jump-lines. One building -- 

Two -- 

Three -- 

And both of them raise their index fingers to their lips once they land on the fourth, but Canary doesn't laugh for it, and her lips don't twitch. They're here...

And there's loud classic soul playing in the loft apartment. 

"Soft or hard, Foxy." Her voice is barely a breath -- 

"I think... soft," Fox says and gestures her to watch the street while he walks to the door. He pulls his lock picks out of the fourth-from-the-knot inside pocket of his sash and sets to work, slowly and carefully. 

He gives himself a full two minutes to do it as subtly as possible -- 

And then Dinah is behind him as they head down and -- into what appears to be a living room. *Only* the loft apartment has roof access, which is an interesting architectural fact which may or may not be of any use the *next* time the Fox has to pay a visit to this neighborhood -- 

"Oh, *please*, Uncle Davon, do it *harder*." The voice *could* belong to an adult female. It's not cut and *dried* -- 

Not as cut and dried as the utter lack of true *passion* -- 

But Canary narrows her eyes behind her domino and cracks her knuckles. 

And the Fox shows his teeth and pulls a throwing knife. They move, and the music gets louder -- 

"C'mon, bitch, make some *noise*." 

"Ooh. Ooh. Oh, Daddy --" 

"Not *Daddy* --" And there's the crack of flesh hitting flesh -- 

A *pained* grunt -- 

And the Fox feels entirely justified about pinning White's hand to his headboard with the knife. 

"What the --" White screams -- 

And the girl -- she *can't* be older than fourteen -- stops clutching her face and rolls off the bed, hitting the hardwood floor much too hard. 

The Fox moves to check on her and -- he doesn't need to gesture. Canary is already stuffing a pillowcase in White's mouth -- and breaking the fingers on the hand which isn't pinned to the wall. 

The Fox nods. "Honey, are you all right?" 

"I'm *not* your honey," she says, full lips curling back from her even white teeth. 

"My mistake. What's your name?" 

She glares at him -- 

Looks around him at what Canary's doing -- 

And her eyes are wide and round. "Are you. Are you really the *Fox*?" 

The Fox grins and nods.

"Who -- who's *she*?" 

"Black Canary --" 

"She's *dead*!" 

"Some things never die. Tell me your name?" 

"Um. Shanisha." 

"That's beautiful. Quick question -- any chance of getting you to testify against this scumbag?" 

"*Hell*, no! My mother would *kill* my ass if she knew about this!" 

The Fox raises an eyebrow. "'This' being your naked extracurricular activities?" 

Shanisha snorts and rubs at her nose -- and winces, because of the blow she had taken while they were *hesitating*. 

"There's something I can do to make that bruise less severe, but I'd have to touch you, and it would hurt --" 

"Do it!" 

He nods and works to help the pooling blood in her cheek -- there's nothing he can do about her nose and eye socket -- to keep circulating. 

"*Ow* --" 

"Do you need me to stop?" 

"Not until you're done! Oh, *damn*, what am I gonna tell my *mom*?" 

"Do you ever take the subway?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Someone was running and tripped, causing you to do the same. You refrained yourself from kicking him when he was down --" 

"No offense, Fox, but that shit sounds a lot like 'I walked into a *door*.'" 

The Fox laughs quietly. "So it does. Shanisha... I kinda think you should consider another line of work." 

"Are. Are you gonna bust me?" 

"Not even close. Officer White will, however, be spending a significant amount of time in prison --" 

"He's a damned *cop*?" 

"A dirty one -- as you've no *doubt* noticed," the Fox says, and decides to try to ease the swelling near her eye -- 

"Oh -- not there." 

"Too much. I'm sorry," and he pulls back. "Is there anything in particular you'd like us to do to him...? We won't kill him or even maim him very much --" 

"Punch him in the *balls*!" 

"Oh, Shanisha. I think that can *absolutely* be arranged." 

She bites her lip for a moment -- and then stands and gets dressed at speed. 

The Fox turns away and -- Canary has gotten the man successfully tied to the bed. How...? 

Ah. The wound on his hand is ragged enough to make it clear that Canary had been abusing it at will. Good girl. 

"Um. Fox?" 

He turns back to Shanisha -- who is wearing a uniform which, if he remembers correctly, marks her as a student at St. Agatha's. "Yes, Shanisha?" 

"You... I'm sorry I can't testify. I mean. You *will* be able to put him away without me, right?" 

The Fox smiles -- and he can feel Canary doing the same. "You would've been the cherry on the sundae, Shanisha. Officer White doesn't *know* it, yet, but he's about to confess to all *kinds* of things." 

Shanisha blinks and turns to Canary -- 

Whose smile gets broader. "If he doesn't, then we'll just keep visiting him." 

"*All* the time." 

"Whenever we get *bored*," Canary says, and jerks her chin at Shanisha. "Listen to Fox about your line of work. You can't even trust the male *cops* in this town." 

Shanisha frowns -- 

Nods -- 

And jogs for the door. 

Canary smiles at him... and makes an after-you gesture. 

The Fox blows her a kiss, punches White's sac very, very meanly -- the scream is impressive even through the pillowcase -- and then he and Canary sit on opposite sides of the bed. "You've been a *naughty* boy, Davon. The good news is that you probably won't do more than five to ten years -- and that's *if* we find one of your pros who *will* talk. Additionally, you have a once in a *lifetime* opportunity to serve that time at a Club Fed... as opposed to in the gen. pop. of a maximum security hellhole like Blackgate, where your chosen career and your taste for underaged girls would get you *thoroughly* raped and murdered in less than a week." 

"Mm-hmm," and Canary tosses her short hair. "Personally, I kinda hope you *don't* talk. I mean, we've got money to burn. We can *pay* a girl to give you up, and coach her just right for *weeks* until she can put you away in her *sleep*. And then -- Blackgate. If you *don't* get raped and murdered right away, we'll just steal some kiddy porn from some lock-up somewhere and mail it to you." 

"Maybe -- just maybe -- pay a screw to paste it up all over your cell," the Fox says, and holds White's head still. 

"There's always too much of that stuff around -- well. You get our point, don't you?" 

White *glares* -- 

"Oh, *Canary*. We've got ourselves a *fighter*." 

Canary sighs theatrically. "Yeah, I guess we do," she says, and breaks White's nose with one strike. 

The tears start immediately, but there's no way to tell without waiting if they're reflexive or a sign of breaking... so Fox sits back and crosses his legs as femininely as possible -- 

Canary snorts. "Don't hurt *your* balls, Fox. I *need* those." 

"Oh, they're *all* yours, gorgeous --" 

"*Liar*." 

"And a *terrible* one, at that. Foxes are *wild* animals --" 

"He's not crying anymore, Foxy." 

"Well, then, I suppose we're just going to have to get *bitchy*," and Fox gets a grip on White's sac and squeezes. 

The scream starts quiet and low but gradually spirals higher and louder as Fox slowly -- *ever* so slowly -- increases the pressure. 

Canary sighs again. "This is where we tell you what we want, I think. It's simple: the Fifteenth." 

White's eyes fly open for that -- 

And he and Canary smile together. 

"You're the *small* fish, bubeleh," Fox says, and squeezes just a little bit harder. 

"The -- ah -- Judas goat." 

"*Very* classical, Canary." 

She sticks her tongue out at him and proceeds to rearrange White's nose to the point where reconstructive surgery will be necessary if he wants to be *remotely* pretty -- or able to breathe through his nose -- anymore. 

The Fox sucks his teeth. "Such a *meanie*." 

"He *really* shouldn't have hit that little girl, Foxy --" 

And this scream sounds like a word. And so does the next. And the next --

Canary moves her hand -- 

And White is giving them pleading looks. Perfect. But --

"Listen *carefully*, bubbie. If you start screaming *after* we take the pillowcase out, we're just going to get meaner. Nod if you understand." 

White nods *frantically*, tears leaking steadily -- 

And so Fox releases his sac, and they wait for the screams due to the blood rushing back to the area to die down before Canary rips out the pillowcase. 

White licks his lips and whines, and whimpers, and generally acts like just the broken shell of a man he should be. 

The Fox gets him a glass of water. 

Canary drops two acetaminophen down his throat and pulls out a small recorder -- and a few extra tapes. 

They begin.

It takes the better part of two hours for White to wind down, and by then they're using the Fox's recorder and extra tapes. It -- 

There isn't one single officer working at the Fifteenth who isn't at least a little dirty -- save for the two rookies, Montoya and Bard. When Bard attempted to take his concerns to Torn, a video of a popular film which involves a snitch's family and friends being punished violently for the snitch's 'sins' mysteriously appeared on the kitchen table of his -- locked -- apartment. On the same day, a bomb threat was called into the nursing home where Bard's grandfather lives. 

They know who did that. 

They also know that the murders had been going on for *two* years. 

They -- 

Bruce is numb and silent within him, hurting for Jim and their city, disillusioned and in *need* -- 

And the Fox can't help him, yet. He calls Jim at Central to let him know what they have, and twenty minutes later some very serious men in pristine suits hustle in and hustle White out. The Fox can't move. Can't -- 

How do you replace an entire *precinct*? 

How the fuck is Gotham supposed to *live* with this? 

Canary -- 

Canary is staring out the window. 

The Fox can't think of a single damned thing to say to her -- 

And he knows *precisely* how bad it is when Bruce doesn't even look up when Harvey walks in. He -- 

He can't. 

Harvey whistles, low and impressed. "By the way that asshole looked when the fibbies were taking him out, I thought this place would be an abattoir." 

Canary grunts. 

The Fox stands -- and utterly fails to pull on a smile. 

Harvey raises his eyebrows and nods. "Okay, I'm hearing you. *Both* of you. But -- this was solid work. You managed to pick up intel not even the *actual* cops could, and then you used it to get the kind of information in *hours* that we might not have ever gotten, at all." 

This time, Canary doesn't even grunt. 

"And -- I'm still hearing you guys. And I *don't* actually approve of torture, but that asshole was even flexing both of his hands, so I know you didn't do all that much damage. And -- all right, look, here's the deal. *Look* at me." 

The Fox does -- and so does Canary. 

Harvey nods again, swallows, and pushes a hand back through his hair. "This is huge, and awful, and motherfucking disgusting. The only way we can make sure *all* of these people go down is to hand the case to the fibbies so they can use all their pretty, expensive surveillance toys and manpower. So, as much as Jim wants to strangle me for pointing it out? As of now, we're done. D-O-N-E." 

"It never ends," Canary mutters -- 

"Hey, now, I know I'm not supposed to notice this, but you're *exactly* too young to be thinking thoughts like that, Canary," and Harvey turns to Fox. "And *you're* too *you*." 

"Harvey --" 

"No, lemme finish," Harvey says, and looks at both of them before blowing out a breath. "Right now, we have to focus on how we're going to bring this town back from the flying shitstorm that's gonna come down as soon as the arrests start being made a couple months from now --" 

"That long?" 

Harvey smiles ruefully. "I'm afraid so, Canary. You guys blew it wide open, but, well, we *all* know that those tapes don't tell the whole story, yeah?" 

The Fox squeezes his eyes shut -- 

"Aw, c'mon, Fox, this is supposed to be *your* job." 

"I'm sorry. I'm -- sorry," Bruce says, and looks through the Fox's eyes, *pleads* through -- 

And Harvey steps back, shaking his head -- and then shaking himself like a dog. "Uh... yeah. That's -- it takes *time* to get your ducks in a row for shit like this without tipping your hand too much, and -- you know what's fucked up? I almost wish there was another perv in the Fifteenth you guys could roll so we could *triangulate* some of this information." 

Bruce nods dumbly. 

Canary shivers. 

Harvey sighs. "Yeah, you guys... you vigilantes used to really get on my nerves... before I met the Fox for myself and saw just how much he *believed* in what people like me and Jim do." 

"I --" The Fox pushes through as much as he can. "I admire you and Jimmy -- you both mean a lot to me." 

"And -- let's just say there've been some cops in my family and leave it at that," Canary says. 

"I hear you, I hear you. And this -- it's a blow. Right to the fucking *gut*. And maybe you're wondering why I'm not crying in my rum with the rest of the good guys?" 

He and Canary nod together -- 

And Harvey smiles, bright and beautiful and *perfect* -- 

"Oh, *sugar* daddy. You're gonna turn my *head*." 

"Now *that's* more like it, you big freak. Seriously, you people have no *idea* how much time Jimmy and I have spent *yearning* for the time and money and *opportunity* to restructure the department. *And* the DA's office, but that comes later. This? This little clusterfuck is gonna give Jim the power to rule the department with an iron *fist*. The fibbies have promised -- it's gonna be Jim in front of the cameras to be shocked and saddened and all that other good stuff -- and Hill and Governor Pettigrew are gonna bend over *backwards* to give Jim what he wants so he won't mention all the times he tried and failed to get those tight-fisted bastards to open the kitty for him. This -- it's a brand new day, lady and gentleman. Gotham's gonna be a different city six months from now, and we have you two -- and two rooks who are about to have a unit built around them -- to thank. So, who's for a drink?" 

The Fox can feel Canary looking at him. He looks right back, and there's cautious hope in the way she's holding herself, in the way she's holding herself *loosely*. The Fox nods and offers Harvey his hand. 

Harvey takes it -- "Oh, *fuck* --" 

And the Fox restrains himself to a kiss on the cheek. 

"God, you dirty *bastard*." 

"I can't help it, sugar daddy -- my heart belongs to *you*." 

Harvey snickers and shoves himself back. "*Seriously*. There are *three* bottles of single-malt in Jim's office, because the whole office could tell he was depressed about something. Let's *enjoy* ourselves for a night, hunh?" 

Canary raises an eyebrow behind her mask. "Don't you have a fiancée to get home to?" 

"Lady, I called Gilda half an hour ago to tell her that *I* wouldn't be on the front lines after all. There's a whole lotta lovin' waitin' for me at home, but I've been informed that I'm not allowed to walk in until she's done beating my gun with a hammer and chisel." 

Canary -- *Dinah* coughs. "Is that a good *idea*?" 

"Not even *remotely*, but if I don't let Jim give me a new gun every couple of months he gets antsy. Bad for his digestion. Let's *go*." 

"Anything you *say*, sugar daddy. We'll meet you there." 

Harvey grins again. "Then I'll leave first, since I *know* you people are gonna break every law you *can* with those bikes of yours. Remember -- no making out in front of Jim. The man's wife only left him five years ago, so he's still on the rebound." 

Canary coughs again -- 

And Harvey winks at her. "Because I can get *away* with saying this shit when he's not right there to look at me like my *father*, that's why," he says, waving and walking out. 

Canary steps close and wraps her arms around him -- 

And Bruce kisses the top of her head. 

"He's *exactly* that perfect, isn't he." 

"Yes," Bruce says, and strokes her back. 

"How do you stand it? I mean -- you *don't* still --" 

"Not for three years. I have... many vivid memories." 

She shivers again and presses closer. "Is it really going to... I mean, I *know* how police departments work in terms of what they get from *us*... but Mom never had a Commissioner for an ally." 

"Jim's will is iron, and every good officer on the force -- and quite a few of the bad ones -- loves him well. I believe... I believe we can hope." 

Dinah nods, and pulls back. "Then let's go get squiffy." 

"As you say."


	18. Chapter 18

"Okay, okay, you gotta tell me, Canary --" 

"Tell you *what*, Harvey?" 

"You -- you, my leggy and dangerously gorgeous friend --" 

"*Harvey*." 

"*Yes*, Jim, I hear you, but *look* at her!" 

"Haaa. Looking's against Jim's *rules*, sugar-daddy..." 

"Heh, you -- fuck this. That right there, Canary. What is the *appeal* for a halfway straight woman? Not that I'm assuming *anything* by the fact that you keep getting up to sit on his lap, noticing Jim glaring, then going back to sit on the chair. Anything at *all*." 

"Mmm... I. He's *hot*." 

"That's it? That's all you got for me?" 

"Do I *need* any more? Have you *seen* how wide those shoulders are? Those thighs? That *chest*?" 

"Okay, okay, all of that is true, but --" 

"No *buts*, sugar-daddy. The lady knows what she *likes*." 

"Hee hee! She really, really does, Foxy..." 

"All right, all right, that's enough of that." 

"But Jimmy-boy --" 

"I *will* shoot you, Fox." 

"Le sigh. *No* great artist is appreciated in his own time."


	19. Chapter 19

As always, it feels decidedly strange to be wearing casual clothes and *not* be in the process of going undercover for one reason or another, but Bruce is reasonably sure Dinah would do something terribly mean to him were he to try to attend a circus in anything more formal than his polo shirt and chinos. A robin's egg blue sweater over his shoulders and a pair of loafers complete the look -- 

And Bruce realizes, as he slides into the back of the Rolls, that he's treating the matter like an undercover assignment *anyway*. He's really going to have to -- 

Going to Adzuki with Selina had definitely counted as a date, but that had ended far more horribly than this is likely to. Nights out on the town with Harvey had been both strange and wonderful things -- but they had also been more frustrating than anything else, as it had been important to be as heteronormatively *correct* as possible. This... 

He and Dinah have no one they need *fool* for this outing. They can be... some variety of themselves. Most of themselves? 

Are you asking, Brucie? 

I believe I'm afraid of the answer. 

The Fox sighs, stretching beside him and folding his hands behind his head. So am I, to be honest. 

Is it the sort of ignorance we're allowed? 

I think so. For now. 

Bruce nods internally. We'll both keep an eye on it. 

Choosing a gift for Dinah to commemorate their first date had been challenging, at first, but Dinah's ears are pierced, and Bruce had purchased the small, gold, bell-and-cage earrings ten months ago. He'd seen them at Mother's favorite jeweler's while shopping for something for her, and they had been too beautiful and *curious* to leave, for all that he'd had no idea who they'd be appropriate for. 

He believes Dinah will appreciate them, though, and he strokes the soft velvet of the box. 

"Are you quite sure the young miss will not take your gift as a sign of grasping behavior, Master Bruce?" 

Translation: Alfred thinks it might be. 

Yes, I see. "In truth, Alfred, I'm not sure. She has, however, expressed generally positive thoughts toward my quiet desires to dress her. Adorning her may be... filed under the same category." 

Alfred hums noncommittally -- 

Alfred *starts* to hum noncommittally and then shakes his head once. "It is my hope that all will proceed as you wish it to do, Master Bruce."

"Thank you, Alfred. That means a great deal to me." 

This time, Alfred's hum is both complete and much more warm. 

He's gotta be thrilled that you managed to make it through a night without telling anyone else. 

Hm. Yes, I imagine that would help. 

The drive takes twenty-five minutes in the mid-afternoon traffic -- there are students absolutely everywhere, and Bruce can't help wondering how and *what* Dinah feels when she sees their unscarred skin and full backpacks -- 

He will ask. 

He will also find out what sort of fairground foods are available, and he will see if she can be talked into consuming funnel cake, or perhaps a sausage and peppers sandwich. *Sub*. He'll remember that. 

And... they can go on rides, and peruse the goods of the vendors who follow Haly's Circus as a matter of course. It will be a *good* day, and, perhaps, the *true* beginning of washing the awful taste of blood and corruption out of their mouths.

For all that the time they'd spent in Jim's office had been wonderful, it was clear that Jim himself was still hurting over the Fifteenth. He likely will be for some time. He... 

Harvey had had to drive Jim home, and Bruce knows it isn't the first time for that. 

Perhaps something to watch -- 

But right now they're in front of Dinah's apartment building. Bruce smiles helplessly and resists the urge to grip at the door handle like an overstimulated child. He has an image to maintain -- 

And an Alfie to mollify. 

As you say, Fox. 

Alfred opens Bruce's door in due time, and Bruce lets there be a skip in his step as he walks up to the door -- where there is a sheet of paper with his name on it taped next to the D. Lance bell. 

Bruce frowns and tugs it free -- 

_Bruce, I'm so sorry!_

_Uncle Ted called at three for a 'family emergency' that needed all hands on deck. I tried calling you, but you had already left. *Please please please* don't miss the circus because of me! I *promise* I'll meet you there if I can at *all*._

_Kiss, Dinah!_

Bruce -- doesn't slump. That wouldn't be correct -- 

You can slump for this, Brucie.

Alfred wouldn't like -- 

Slump. 

Bruce slumps. Slightly. 

And tucks the earrings back in his pocket. 

And walks back to the car. 

"Sir?" 

"The JSA summoned her right after we left. I... I begin to wish more strenuously that I were on a team." 

"Oh, sir. I am terribly sorry."

Bruce nods and slips back into the car, and Alfred closes the door behind him and does the same. 

"Perhaps you can take in a show, instead?" 

He could take Mother -- no. No, not that. "No, Alfred. Dinah specifically asked me not to miss the circus because of her, and added that she would meet me there if she could. The reviews I've read about their past performances in Gotham were all quite glowing, and they won't be here after this weekend. I think I *must* go." 

"Master Bruce, the idea of you having a day of recreation without needing to be chivvied into it by one companion or another warms my heart most profoundly. To the circus, it is." 

Bruce inclines his head and sits back, and tries to rewrite his ideas on how to spend the day until his pursuits are more tailored to a solitary man -- 

He tries. 

He... doesn't succeed very well. 

He's spent the last forty-five minutes wandering the fairground unable to settle on anything in particular. The Ferris wheel is remarkably lonely without someone at your side. 

The teacups are very, very small. 

He has no idea whatsoever how Dinah feels about Native American jewelry. 

He also has no idea if there'd be anything here Selina would be tempted to steal -- 

Foxes don't *hiss*, Brucie, but you're making me want to. 

*Cats* hiss -- 

The Fox growls and darkens Bruce's expression -- 

And the small child who had been running toward him stops suddenly and runs in the other direction -- and into the arms of his relieved mother. 

Who then glares at him. 

Bruce winces -- 

And the Fox is a sheepish sketch of a man within him, scratching at his long sideburn and watching the mother and child go. Ah -- sorry about that. 

I'm sorry, too. 

We've gotta -- we *really* need to have fun at this thing. 

I imagine it will be quite enjoyable to see the late performances -- 

Start walking again. You're creeping people out. 

Bruce does so, angling himself randomly -- 

Okay, here's the deal -- we *need* to find a way to have fun in at least three different ways. 

Is that... a rule?

Sort of. Alfred is gonna ask. Dinah is gonna ask. *Mom* is gonna ask. 

Should we -- 

No, we should *not* have taken her. This isn't her scene, and your dreams are still a little too... ah... humid for that. 

I want to know -- 

No. 

Bruce frowns -- 

You know why. 

He... does. All right. Do you have any suggestions -- 

Thief, ten o'clock --

Bruce focuses -- and a slim, dark, and well-muscled boy is pressing his index finger to his lips while standing on tiptoe and reaching over the counter of a stall... to steal spun sugar for the small and somewhat ecstatically grimy girl -- 

He *thinks* it's a girl -- 

\-- who is staring up at the boy with wonder in her wide, brown eyes. 

Bruce moves to stop the boy and alert the vendor -- 

But the vendor turns before Bruce can get close and laughs hard enough to make his many extra chins jiggle. 

" -- terrible *boy*! You send Nino out of *business*!" 

The boy winks and hands the girl a large *cloud* of spun sugar -- and then runs off. 

Hunh. 

Yes. 

He... I think that boy was probably part of the circus. Or... maybe a child of one of the carnies? 

Is that an offensive term?

I have *no* idea. Let's not use it, just in case. 

Should we ask about the boy? 

He was... he had a lot of muscle on him. 

He did, yes. And... his skin. 

The Fox walks Bruce onto a long line for funnel cake and then turns to look at him, from within -- 

They seem to be standing on a vast lawn utterly unlike the one outside Wayne manor. There are croquet balls and mallets -- 

Never mind those, Brucie. What about his skin? 

Nothing. It... such a *rich* olive color. 

Yeah. Yeah. Maybe... Italian? 

Or... his nose was quite aquiline. 

Greek, maybe? 

His hands. I noticed... they were quite well-worked.

Yeah. The Fox rocks back and forth on his heels. They made him look older. 

How old do you think -- I mean. He seemed quite young. 

Maybe. Slight, though -- 

Not slight. *Lean*. 

The Fox licks his teeth and rocks a little more. There's something. Something about him. 

Should we ask Nino? 

He... I bet he'd think it would be creepy of us. These small circuses -- I've heard they're pretty close-knit. 

And the boy is young, yes. 

Fourteen? Maybe younger. 

Perhaps if we... observed him. 

Yeah, let's, and the Fox walks them off the line again. The boy had been traveling steadily east, closer to the heart of the fairgrounds. He'd been wearing an exceeding *tight* gold t-shirt and obviously well-loved jeans. His hair is just a little too long for practicality. It's as thick and black as Harvey's, though there's less of a wave. 

His mouth -- 

We probably won't be able to track him by his mouth, Brucie. 

No, but it was... full. 

Yeah. Yeah, it was. 

Bruce focuses on the constantly shifting groups of children for a while, but there's no sign of him. The boys all seem more generally *excitable* than the boy had been, and the girls are nothing like him. 

Still, Bruce counts four yellow t-shirts and fifteen pairs of jeans. Nothing gold. 

Nothing *that* well-worn. 

He follows a bobbing black head down a row of people selling posters and black lights and marijuana paraphernalia, but it turns out to be a diminutive woman with large breasts. 

Cute, though. 

Perhaps. And -- I believe I'm going to focus on the fair workers now. 

Yeah, we'll hit the edges. 

They do just that -- and find the boy a bare five minutes later. He's down on one knee with a pale, thin, black-haired toddler on his lap, and there are two couples just behind him. The first is a man and woman dressed in loud, brash, and *attractive* tights -- the man's nose and skin tone are the same as the boy's -- and the second are a wealthy-looking and familiar couple -- 

The woman looks like Mom. 

Not truly. Her face is much more angular than Mother's, and her eyes are somewhat cruel -- 

And she's the same height and approximate weight -- 

Her hair is *brown* -- 

Her eyes are the exact same shade and width -- 

She's not as *beautiful* -- 

Okay, I give up. Why do *you* think they're familiar? 

Bruce looks them over once more, this time focusing on the man, who is relatively tall. His hair is as black as his son's, and he's somewhat gangling. He's obviously happy -- no. Bruce reimagines his smile to one more professional... Jack and Janet Drake. Jack is the CEO of Drake Industries, which is a medium-sized manufacturing concern that recently moved to Gotham. Janet has no official title, but is considered to be the true power. 

The Fox blinks at him -- from across a tennis net. Did we even *meet* them? 

Mother showed us a picture of them last year. 

*Oh*, that's right. She wanted us to tell her that she was more beautiful than Janet. 

She *did*? 

Yeah, I. I would've told you, but -- 

You weren't quite... complete at the time. 

Exactly. Look at the toddler. 

Bruce turns his attention to the boys -- 

The older boy is whispering in the toddler's ear and hugging him quite tightly. The toddler seems to be vibrating gently.

Hm. 

Yeah. 

He's quite thin for a boy his age -- 

Yeah. Too... something. 

Something? 

I don't know. I don't see any *obvious* signs of abuse, and he *could* just be a really *slight* kid, but -- 

The older boy hugs the toddler even more firmly, and the bearded woman in the sequined dress who Bruce's mind had -- dangerously -- edited out as being part of the expected scene snaps a picture. At that point, the older boy kisses the top of the toddler's head and stands, sets the little boy on his feet, waves to the people who are probably his parents, blows a kiss to the bearded woman, and runs back into the thick of the fair. 

The toddler watches him go with an expression of longing and joy -- 

I say we watch the Drakes. Just a little. 

All right, but -- 

Yeah, let's go. 

They do. 

They find and lose the boy several more times. He is *fleet*, and lithe, and almost -- 

There's something about him. 

There's something about his sly and knowing and *warm* smiles for every child who catches his attention. 

There's something about the way every one of the circus and fair employees laugh and smile whenever they see him. 

There's something about the way he can *disappear* -- 

The Fox catches the slim wrist as the hand it was attached to slips out of his pocket. He turns -- 

And the boy is there in his shadow, grinning broadly. And holding the jeweler's box in his *other* hand. 

He is -- 

He is beautiful.

Uh-oh. Brucie, seriously, pay attention here --

"That was very good." 

The boy cocks his head to the side. "You're not bad yourself. What's your name?" 

"Bruce Wayne. Yours?" 

"Dick Grayson." 

Bruce frowns. "Not... Richard?" 

He makes a rather terrible face. "*Dick*... is a lot more fun," he says, and drops the jeweler's box back into Bruce's pocket. "Are you gonna let go of my wrist?" 

"Will you tell me why you were trying to steal from me?" 

The boy -- Dick shrugs. "Mostly to see if I could. Why were you following me?" 

Because you're beautiful -- no, that's not right. That's -- that would make the boy *leave*, and he doesn't -- 

Brucie, *listen*, you're really in danger here -- 

"I'm not altogether sure," Bruce says, and loosens his grip on Dick's wrist but doesn't let go. "I don't believe I've ever seen a boy like you." 

Dick makes another face -- and this time he sticks out his tongue in the moments before he dislocates his thumb and pulls his wrist free. 

"Oh, don't --" 

"I'm fine," and Dick proceeds to show off a decidedly double-jointed hand and arm. "So... what kind of perv are you *exactly*?" 

"A violent one -- when desired. An incestuous one -- when I can't help myself. A deeply emotional one. A somewhat fractured one. A -- a loving one." 

"No 'when' for those last three?" 

"Always."

"And that's what you want with me? Love?" 

Brucie, listen! Please *listen* --

"I would like to get to know you. I don't..." Bruce shakes his head. "I don't get involved with people I haven't come to know first." 

"'Involved'. Heh. You know, you're built like a *tank*... but I'm pretty sure my Dad and all his friends could beat the shit out of you." 

"Quite possibly." 

Dick raises an eyebrow. "Do you think you can get what you want before I scream?" 

"I don't commit rape." 

"Who are the earrings for?" 

"A young woman. My lover. My friend." 

"Which?" 

"All of those." 

Dick rocks on his heels. "How young?" 

"Seventeen," Bruce says, and gives himself a moment to study the eagle bridge of Dick's nose. "She owns her own business." 

"And that makes her old enough for you?" 

Bruce smiles. "The fact that she rather runs rings around me intellectually and emotionally makes her old enough for me." 

"Is it that hard to do? Running rings around you, I mean." 

"Some people find it effortless. None of those people are my enemies." 

"What kind of enemies do *you* have? Parents? Cops? Family Services?" 

Bruce laughs quietly. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question. What were you reaching for in my pocket the second time?" 

"Your attention, mostly. Where's the girl?" 

"She wouldn't take very kindly to being called a 'girl,' Dick. Perhaps not even by a boy like you." 

"My Mom says that you can always tell if a kid's immature by how quickly he or she protests being *called* a kid." 

"A wise woman --" 

"Where is she?" 

"Her name is Dinah. She's having, as she put it, a family emergency." 

Dick frowns slightly; clear, high brow wrinkling and mouth pinching just so. "'As she put it'? What does that mean?" 

"It means that she has secrets I cannot tell you." 

"Secrets *other* than the fact that she's banging a rich old perv?" 

"Do I seem so old?" 

\-- sound like MOM, Brucie! Stop! Think! Please -- 

"-- most pervs don't like thinking about how much older they are than the kids they fuck," and Dick smiles. "I'm thirteen. How old are you?" 

"Twenty-nine." 

Dick watches him expectantly. 

Bruce raises his own eyebrow. 

"That's it? You're not gonna talk about how 'age is just a number'? Or maybe something about how sixteen years isn't that much?" 

Bruce frowns. "Should I?" 

Dick snorts -- and it turns into a giggle. "Okay, that -- that Completely Lost act? That's good." 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Dick. I assure you -- it happens exceedingly often." 

"But only with people you *like*." 

Bruce nods. "My theory is that, on some level, I 'turn off' my analytical mind around my loved ones so that I can better enjoy them." 

"That's kind of a dumb thing to do. I mean, who wants to have a conversation with a hopeless space case?" 

"Not many people, as these things go --" 

"*Well*?" 

"Were I to analyze you, in this moment, I would be forced to come to the conclusion that you are often bored and understimulated, despite the incredibly hard work you must do as a performer -- *are* you an acrobat?" 

Dick grins and waggles his eyebrows once. "I'm the Boy Wonder -- and one-third of the Flying Graysons." 

Bruce shivers internally -- but he must continue. "All right. You are, as I've said, understimulated. To remedy the boredom and the depression which comes with it --" 

"I'm *not* depressed --" 

"You don't let yourself be. You... you've run somewhat wild, albeit in mostly positive ways. You are well-loved by your small community, and you cannot ever sit still. You've gained mascot status, and you worry your parents immensely --" 

"My *Dad* is just as wild as I am --" 

"And your mother?" 

Dick frowns slightly -- shakes his head. "Keep going." 

Bruce inclines his head. "You've begun committing petty crimes --" 

"I *gave* you that one --" 

"The crimes are becoming more and more risky. You had no way of knowing how I would react to having my pocket picked. You have no way of knowing, in this moment, what I will do to you for your crimes." 

"I know you won't *rape* me." 

"Won't I?" 

"I can *read* a lie, townie." 

Bruce cocks his own head to the side -- and nods. "All right. You believe -- deep within you -- that the risks you take are calculated ones. This is all well and good as it stands, but it will -- quickly -- make even the risks as dull as everything else -- no. Nothing bores you about performance. Perhaps not even the long and arduous training for it." 

Dick frowns and *starts* to shake his head -- he stops. "Keep going." 

"Once even the risks become boring, there will be a need to make them greater -- and to remove all calculation entirely. You'll become a thrillseeker, and will thus be in danger of addiction to hard drugs and alcohol and, of course, increasing levels of violence. You'll lose the ability to take pleasure in even those things which were once the absolute best activities for you. You'll lose the ability to *feel*. You'll become numb inside and constantly in need of greater and greater levels of stimulation --" 

"I'm *not* weak --" 

"No, you're not. You are, however, in grave danger --" 

"And you can save me? *Please*." 

Bruce lets his nostrils flare. "I... I can only enjoy your company, Dick, and wish the best for you." 

"What do you *want*." 

"I don't --" 

"*Think*, Bruce!" 

"Oh..." Bruce smiles. "Apparently, I very badly wanted to hear you say my name." 

*I'll* say it, I'm calling you, I'm *calling* you -- 

"In fact, I believe I'd like to hear that very often." 

Dick snorts and crosses his arms over his chest - 

"Don't do that. It leaves you quite vulnerable to attack --" 

"I already know *you* won't do anything to me." 

Bruce punches to miss -- 

And Dick doesn't so much as flinch. He -- 

Oh, *he* -- "You've been in fights." 

"Mm-hmm." 

"You... know how to handle yourself." 

Dick snickers. "I really, *really* do, *Bruce*." 

And Bruce -- blushes. 

And Dick *stares* -- 

"I --" 

"Are you *new* to picking up underaged boys or something?" 

"I don't -- I don't want to 'pick you up.'" 

"Hunh. You actually believe that." 

"I don't treat people who abuse young people very well, Dick." 

"Oh, yeah? What do you do to them?" 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because we don't know each other that well... yet?" 

Dick snickers again and shakes his head. "I don't think we're gonna be going on any *play*-dates, Bruce." 

"What games do you like to play?" 

"'Pin the bruise on the asshole townie' is pretty fun. So are 'fleece the rich mark' and 'talk the *cute* townie-girl behind the trailers.'" 

"Only girls?" 

Dick looks away, eyes shadowed -- 

"There's nothing wrong with homosexuality --" 

Dick stops him with an incredulously annoyed look. "I *know* that." 

"I... does someone in your life *not* know that?" 

Dick crosses his arms more tightly and taps his foot. "I'm not -- supposed to." 

"There... there are countless reputable studies about the importance of free, easy, and safe sexual experimentation to the development --" 

"*Please* stop sounding like a health textbook?" 

Bruce hums. "As you say. Still... it seems obscene that a boy such as you would... repress himself. In any way." 

"You don't actually know me." 

"I'd like to change that." 

Dick snorts. "We're rolling out in three days, Bruce. This -- this isn't going to be some kind of grand romance." 

And that... that *aches* -- 

Brucie, *please* -- 

Fox --

Yes, *listen* to me, please, please, don't do this to our mind, don't -- 

It's only that he's *beautiful*, Fox -- 

We can't, Brucie! We can't *do* this! 

I -- 

"Hey, where'd you go?" 

"I was... consulting with myself." 

Dick raises his eyebrows -- and then smiles and lets himself fall back against the trailer they're standing behind. His torso forms a sleek, inviting slope down to his groin -- 

He strokes down the center of his chest *to* his groin -- 

He -- 

"Dick --" 

"You can have what you want, Bruce." 

Bruce blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "I. Dick, no. You... you must experiment with people in your age group --" 

"Do you want me?" 

"I -- no." 

"Heh. That was a lie. But you *still* think you don't wanna pick me up. Is this where the fracturing stuff comes in?" 

Bruce swallows. "It would make sense. My... better side has been warning me to leave you alone." 

Dick grins and raises his eyebrows again. "It's afraid of me?" 

"And of me." 

"What you'll do?" 

"To you. Dick --" But the rest of the words -- whatever they might have been -- don't come. They -- 

Dick is opening his jeans. He is.

"Dick, don't." 

"You don't wanna see?" 

"I do. It's not. It's not correct -- right. It's not right." 

"Don't be afraid of me, Bruce. Fear just -- fear never does anything good." 

"There -- it wouldn't be good to touch you --" 

"My skin isn't... really smooth. It's kind of -- I mean, compared to other kids my age." 

"Girls... many young girls begin moisturizing at a very young age --" 

"Every summer I run around as close to naked as I can get, Bruce. And every winter, too, 'cause we go down to Florida, and sometimes to Mexico," Dick says, and pulls down his zipper, exposing simple white briefs. 

"Please don't." 

Dick parts his lips -- and takes a quick breath. "That's. Did you see my dick twitch?" 

"You call it -- no, of course you do --" 

"You didn't see," and Dick nods and bites his lip before pushing his jeans down to his thighs. He is... becoming erect. 

Quickly. 

"You wanna see. You wanna touch. You wanna *have*." 

"Yes. But --" 

"Don't be afraid. Sometimes... I remember I used to be afraid of things," and Dick strokes himself through his briefs. 

"Please." 

"Please what?" 

"Tell me... tell me when you stopped being afraid." 

"The platforms -- they're forty feet above the ground. The ladder is narrow. Just big enough for Dad's feet. The ladder's wood, too. It sways. It creaks. It --" Dick licks his lips and squeezes himself hard -- and moans. 

"Please," Bruce says, and takes a step closer -- 

And Dick smiles at him. "Touch me." 

"I -- no." 

"Push your fingers between mine and touch me." 

Bruce -- stares at Dick's working hand. There are many small scars and calluses. There -- 

"I'm -- pretty hot. Temperature-wise, I mean. I'm running a fever." 

"You -- you need rest and fluids --" 

Dick sticks his tongue out. "Gotham always makes me sick. Too many people." 

"You. Perhaps you could grow accustomed --" 

"I'm not gonna *move* here, Bruce. C'mon, once in a lifetime chance." 

"You're. You'll come back next year --" 

Dick shrugs. "If I survive. If the circus survives. If *Gotham* survives. You don't even have any metahuman superheroes." 

"Do you... like superheroes?" 

"Uh. Yeah? Why?" 

Bruce shakes his head and swallows and -- doesn't step closer. Not -- not again -- 

"Do you wanna see my dick now?" 

Bruce grunts -- 

"I'm uncut, Bruce. Dad thinks circumcision is just another stupid, barbaric thing townies do." 

"There are -- certain hygienic advantages --" 

"You're cut?" 

Bruce swallows again. "No." 

"How big are you?" 

"Fairly. Fairly sizeable --" 

"Can I touch --" 

Bruce -- 

Bruce can't remember the precise motions -- or the precise decision to move -- that lead to him gripping Dick's wrists in one hand and holding them above his head and gripping Dick's *hip* with the other -- 

"*Oh* --" 

"I won't. I will not... trespass." 

"What the hell do you think you're doing right now?" 

"Stopping you before I lose all trace of my control. You are... you are the most beautiful boy I've ever seen, and I... I did not know I could desire such things. I must think. And I must content myself with seeing you perform," Bruce says, pulling up Dick's jeans and zipping and buttoning them with one hand. When he's done, he releases Dick's wrists and steps back. 

Dick stares at him with narrow eyes, *confused* eyes -- 

"Please. Please find some -- some *worthy* young man with whom you can make love." 

"So you can watch?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "Beautiful boy. I believe I will dream of you... extensively. But I will not -- I will not," Bruce says, and inclines his head before walking away. 

*Quickly*. 

He -- 

He can't bring himself to even consider missing the Graysons' performance, and so he must do other things to prepare, to -- control himself. 

Can I *talk* to you yet, Brucie?

Yes. I'm sorry.

I didn't even know you *could* shut me out like that!

Neither did I. 

What -- what *happened*? 

Bruce frowns and buys a ticket for the tilt-a-whirl, which should be nauseating enough to help his erection subside. And -- you don't know? 

Know? I don't know anything! One minute there was an interesting boy we wanted to know more about, and the next minute you were about to devour him *whole*!

You... don't find him attractive? 

Of course I do! He's... he's got a lot of muscle, and he's graceful, and -- and really fearless -- Brucie, I'm *confused*! 

I'm... not.

Why *not*? 

I think... Bruce shakes his head internally and climbs into the ride, bolting himself in and preparing to be flung -- 

WHAT DO YOU THINK?!

Bruce winces. Fox -- 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. *But we are not supposed to get hot for KIDS*!

That's entirely true. And yet -- 

No. No. You're about to start making excuses about how Dick is more mature and not like other children and -- no. 

You're right, that would be terrible. And -- weak.

Yes! Why aren't you confused?

He seems... it's no one thing, Fox. It's only that he seems... correct. 

You're the one who profiled him! You *know* he's not -- 

Not correct in *that* way, Fox. Correct for *me*. I... when he met my eyes, I felt *made*. 

And... and. He's beautiful. 

And quite brilliant. Wise. Cynical but not... not *dark*. 

His *eyes* are dark sometimes -- 

When I profiled him. When I showed him truths he already knew about himself. 

Bruce, what do you *want* with him? 

I don't -- 

Don't *lie* to me. Not -- not where I can't see you. 

Bruce gasps and looks inward, where the Fox is *seeking*. It's dim and *smoky* inside, and there's something --

He can't see the Fox's eyes --

Fox, what's wrong with your *eyes*? 

I don't know! Why can't I see? Why -- 

Turn toward my voice --

The Fox does, patting at the air with his hands and walking as carefully as a blind -- man.

His eyes are gone. He can't. His eyes are *gone* -- 

Bruce? Brucie, what's going *on*? 

Your. I -- Bruce shakes his head and reaches out, tracing the *nothingness* where the Fox's eyes should be. 

Bruce? Are you -- you were touching me, but now I can't -- 

Your. Your eyes are gone, Fox. I don't -- 

Fuck fuck -- bring them *back*!

*How*? 

*Think* hard -- 

And the Fox can see, the Fox can see anything, everything -- 

The Fox doesn't *miss* things -- 

The Fox never misses -- 

He's there to *help* Bruce see everything confusing, everything dark and strange -- oh. 

The Fox blinks -- and reaches to touch Bruce's face. "I can -- they feel different." 

Bruce licks his lips. "They're green now." 

"Why -- no, that's not *right* --" 

"I'll fix it. I'll --" Bruce shakes his head, and concentrates -- 

Wait, the ride is over, the Fox says, and he's staring into the distance. Bruce turns to do the same -- and steps out of the little car. He feels. 

He -- 

Well, you're not hard anymore. That's *something*. Why -- did you take my eyes? 

I think. I must've been... afraid. Cowardly. I think I didn't want you to see me lose myself. 

Do you. Do you want me to go away -- 

NO! No, please, Fox, I *need* you -- 

Are you *sure*? 

Yes! Please, stay with me, and -- you mustn't let me become *weak* again!

I don't know... here, and the Fox leads them away from the crowds, further and further until they're in the entirely empty big top, which smells of old popcorn and peanuts, of sweat and sugar, of animals and *people*. 

Bruce moves onto the bleachers, breathing deep and resting his face in his hands. 

It's -- you didn't mean to do that to me. 

No, Fox. If I'd known --

I couldn't feel. I couldn't feel anything wrong, or anything gone. I just -- I couldn't see. 

I'm so *sorry* -- 

I'm real again, though. I can... I'm a little warm in the silk, and my eyes itch -- wait. 

Fox steps away from him -- and pulls out the color contacts before raising his eyebrows. 

Oh -- blue. 

*Good*. You had me *worried*. Heh. For a *lot* of reasons, Brucie. 

Perhaps. Perhaps we should stay away from the boy. 

What if there are other boys? Girls? 

Dinah was... I didn't desire her when she was a girl. I. Did I? 

We both got hot when you gave her a little Daddying, but -- let's take a look, the Fox says, stepping close and cupping Bruce's face, leaning in -- 

Fox? 

Don't leave me. Don't -- 

And the kiss is as soft as the caress of smoke -- 

And then it's hot, hard, and the prickle and brush of the Fox's mustache is frightening and arousing, at once. He is -- 

He is *held*, because the Fox is warm and strong, so very -- 

His tongue goes so *deep* --

His hands are -- so large, so ---

They touch him seemingly everywhere at *once* --

Please, Fox. Please don't make me aroused again -- 

The Fox shudders and pulls back -- I. I don't know if I can keep you from getting hard. Not if I'm doing this. I shouldn't -- I'm sorry. 

Fox?

I'm -- I kissed you for the wrong reason, Bruce, and the Fox turns away frowning. 

What -- 

What could possibly -- oh. 

You kissed me to deepen the split between us. 

Yeah. 

To make yourself... stronger? 

It makes us weaker. It must -- that's what all the books *say* -- 

Look at me, Fox. 

The Fox stiffens and takes a sharp breath... but he does turn, and there's a plea in his eyes, and his hair is mussed -- 

Bruce had mussed his hair. I liked the kiss. 

So did I. 

I... brother. And Bruce reaches out -- 

And the Fox takes his hand. Brother. 

Did you... are you strong enough to keep me from hurting you? 

It didn't -- hurt. But I know what you mean. I don't know. I *won't* know until the next time something happens that makes you shut me out. 

I *won't*. 

Bruce -- 

There could -- there could never *be* another boy like *that*! 

You realize you just jinxed us for life, right? 

I... that's very superstitious, Fox. 

The Fox snickers and dances on his feet the way Ted Grant had taught them. The space within is no longer smoky, but it's still... ill-defined. The only thing he can be sure of is that they're no longer outdoors. And -- 

The Fox is still dancing. 

I'm serious. We shouldn't be encouraging that kind of thing in ourselves. 

Bruce. Brucie. Brucelah -- 

That's really quite awful, Fox -- 

Thanks to you? There are going to be staggeringly beautiful, brilliant, and altogether *fascinating* boys falling out of the sky -- and into our laps -- for the rest of our natural *life*. 

Fox. 

I don't think they *make* umbrellas for that kinda -- oh... hello. 

The Fox *pushes* him forward -- and Dick is sitting beside him on the bench, body folded into something lost between tailor-fashion and lotus. His expression is thoughtful, patient, and -- warm. 

"Dick. It's good to see you again." 

Dick raises his eyebrows. "It's been thirty minutes, Bruce." 

"It seemed... longer."

"Without me?" 

"And with my confusion and guilt." 

"*About* me?" 

Bruce nods. "A part of me finds it perfectly natural to be as attracted to you as I am. The rest is both stunned and somewhat horrified." 

"Because you're used to looking down on people who have sex with kids?" 

"To say the least. I've never... well. I was in the process of wracking my brain to look for signs of this in my past, actually. Do you mind if I continue?" 

Dick shakes his head, and -- 

"You seem... quieter now." 

"I stole a condom from my parents' trailer and broke into Vonnie's so I could use hir dildo." 

Keep it steady, Brucie -- 

"That doesn't seem very sanitary, Dick." 

Dick shrugs. "I always tie off the end of the condom so it's, like, a little dildo bag." 

That's... better. That -- 

"I think you should be thinking about me fucking myself, Bruce." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I assure you, Dick, I won't be able to stop in a very brief amount of time --" 

"But you need to brood first. I hear you," and Dick rests his chin on his fists and watches him idly. 

Bruce closes his eyes -- 

And there is Dinah as she was at twelve, coltish and gamin as she ran and played all over Ted Grant's gym. 

Bruce tries to sexualize the image, to imagine her long, lean thighs gripped with big hands -- 

Big hands with hair on the knuckles, and Dinah's own hair would almost certainly be quite sparse -- 

Save beneath her arms and on her pubis -- 

Dark hair -- 

But Bruce can't help but 'write' in her scars, and her *thick* musculature, and her ripe, full breasts -- hm. That's a good sign, isn't it?

The Fox steps forward and reaches out toward the Dinah in their mind. Abruptly, the image is as flatly two-dimensional as a painting, and, when the Fox flips it over -- 

The coltish Dinah is naked in Ted Grant's lap. Her breasts are still quite small, her hair is long and unstyled -- and there is no hair on her pubis. She -- 

The image moves, gaining life and reality -- 

She is.

She is riding him, and crying out, and tossing her head -- 

*Enough* -- 

And the Fox erases everything -- 

Not everything, Brucie. I can't actually do that. 

Then...? 

The Fox's smile is pained. I put it back where I found it -- *behind* your approximately eight thousand fantasies about Mom. 

Bruce frowns. Are there. Are there others? 

Yeah. Mostly it's Dinah, but there are a few about Lex. None about Harvey, interestingly enough. Of course, you've always needed Harv to be older. 

But... I pictured Lex as a *child*? 

I'd say you built him to be eleven of twelve. You couldn't decide whether to save him or break him for your use -- uh. Let's not tell him that. 

I'm not sure I wanted you to tell *me* that. I -- was I *abusive* -- 

More... more disciplinary than abusive. Apparently, you think he needed some parenting. 

He *did* -- but. How is it possible that I pictured *myself* in that role? 

The Fox blows out a breath -- and pulls up another image. It's a memory of their time at Exeter. Lex is staring with a *lost* expression at Harvey's back as Harvey walks away -- 

And Bruce remembers thinking that Lex should've known better, that Lex, with all of his brilliance, had somehow never been taught that respect *earns* respect, and that kindness was always better than the alternatives. 

He remembers wondering if *he* could be the one to teach such a lesson -- but. 

Yeah, Brucie? 

Fox... was I *hiding* my predilections toward... ephebophilia? 

Yeah, that's what I'd call it. Thank -- something or other. 

Bruce nods. Was I hiding those predilections from myself by burying myself in fantasies about Mother? 

Kinda? I mean, it makes sense. It took a *real* long time for you to stop wanting to go to her *first* when you were upset. 

As opposed to you, or Harvey. 

Uh, huh. 

But... is it possible that I'm *not* truly in love with Mother -- 

Yeah, no. You're just that much of a pervert. Sorry. 

Hm. 

I mean -- you love her *and* you want her to save you from your lust for kids, if that makes sense. 

It does, yes. Can *you* save me? 

Bruce, I gotta be honest here -- most of what I'm thinking right now? Boils down to wondering what position Dick bent himself into when he was fucking himself. I mean -- that kind of flexibility isn't *wildly* uncommon in boys his age, but something tells me that he is... something special. 

He's the Boy Wonder. 

Yeah. And I think that kiss infected me, Brucie. I think. I think this is a problem. 

I want. I want to speak with him more. 

The Fox smiles ruefully -- and pushes him forward just as Dick yawns. 

"Hello." 

"All done brooding?" 

"In some ways, I feel I've only just begun." 

Dick nods thoughtfully. "You found out you've been fantasizing about kids for a while?" 

"In a nutshell, yes. And I had been aging down at least one person. A man who has become my lover." 

"Do you want the kid in your fantasies more than you want the real guy?" 

"No. No child could ever be... well, have you heard the name Lex Luthor?" 

Dick makes an *awful* face. "He's the one who's always saying fucked-up things about *Superman*! You *can't* be dating *him*!" 

Bruce laughs quietly and... decides to hedge, to a certain extent. "Lex and I have had cause in the past -- and the present -- to disagree vehemently, Dick. I imagine the same will be true in the future." 

Dick nods again. "So -- you're *that* rich." 

"My family is extremely wealthy, yes." 

"Have you ever wanted to buy a circus?" 

Bruce blinks. "Is your circus in financial trouble?" 

Dick smiles ruefully. "Yeah. Always. There's the money for the insurance, and the money to care for all the animals, and the money to care for all the rides and other machinery, and the money to advertise, and -- everything else. By the time all that's taken care of, there's not a whole lot to pay the rest of us. Some of the fair vendors are pretty awful and cheat their customers, but we still have to put up with them because they pay to follow us." 

Well-loved jeans... or simply well-used ones? Bruce nods thoughtfully. "I can honestly say that I had never thought about the fiscal realities of running a circus. I'll look into it --" 

Dick snorts. "You haven't even had *fun* today!" 

"I'm having fun right now." 

"Then *smile*!" 

The Fox grins widely, *wetly* -- 

*No*!

*Fuck* -- sorry -- 

Bruce turns away from Dick and controls his expression as best as he can -- 

"Um. What." 

"I'm sorry --" 

"Sorry -- what *was* that, Bruce?" 

Bruce winces -- no, not that, either. He turns back to Dick and smiles ruefully. "It's not important --" 

"But -- that *wasn't* a fake smile."

"No, it wasn't. It's --" 

"You have a whole separate side of yourself that you don't show anyone?" 

*Yes* -- Bruce smiles more broadly. "I could say something at this juncture about how little time we've known each other --" 

"But you *won't* because that's not the reason *why*," Dick says, and narrows his eyes critically. "Is it?" 

Lie! 

He'll see -- 

Lie *anyway*, make him question himself -- 

I could never. I would never make such a boy doubt his own mind. That -- that is beneath us. 

Damn, I. You. You're right, and the Fox turns away and sinks into the shadows. I'm sorry -- 

"Bruce...?" 

"It -- I was -- " 

"'Consulting' with yourself. That other side of you?" 

"There are secrets I cannot share about myself." 

"Because I'm leaving in a few days?" 

"Because I have not yet come to know you. I have... I have considered traveling to see you perform in other cities." 

Dick makes a face again. "Do you even *like* acrobat shows?" 

Bruce nods. "I've seen many on my travels around the world --" 

"What do you *do* to make money? I mean -- do you even work, at *all*?" 

Bruce laughs. "Far, far less than you do. But -- I'm something of a freelance inventor. I've created several products --" 

"Like what?" 

"Body armor, air filtration systems, rubber vulcanization processes, antitoxins for various venoms --" 

"Uh." Dick blinks at him. 

"Yes?" 

"That's -- I mean, I'm not really good at science, Bruce, but isn't that, like, a lot of different *kinds* of science? Don't most scientists focus on one or two kinds?" 

Bruce reaches out to touch Dick's frown-line -- 

Dick leans forward and rubs his forehead against Bruce's fingertips before leaning back and looking at him expectantly. 

"One of the things having a surfeit of money allows is the leisure to follow many different avenues of study, at once." 

"So... you're *not* going skiing in Aspen or playing baccarat in Monaco?" 

"As little as possible. I don't much care for the sort of people who bury themselves in leisure activities without finding some way to... give back, perhaps." 

"So why are you *here* today?" 

Bruce smiles. "Because my loved ones believe that I need to spend more time being leisurely. I don't think they realize how much fun I tend to have on a daily basis." 

"In your *lab*?" 

And on the street -- no. "For... the most part." 

Dick gives him a shrewd look -- and then nods. "You... are a lot less useless than you look." 

"Thank you. I -- is it the sweater?" 

Dick nods. "The loafers are pretty terrible, too. Don't you *own* jeans?" 

"I do, yes, but my valet insists on ironing them, and I find that that looks quite strange." 

"Uh. *Yeah*." 

"I think it's possible that he irons them for just that reason. He is... quite formal." 

"Is he your friend or just your but-- what *is* a valet?" 

"Technically, a valet is someone to help one with one's clothing and the small tasks not performed by other servants. Alfred defines the term rather more broadly than that, and is my only servant -- which is his choice in terms of how to define it. He's rather... he's been another parent to me, and a friend, and a confidant." 

Dick frowns. "Someone you can confide in, right?" 

"Yes --" 

"What's wrong with your other parents? Are they still alive?" 

"Yes, both of them. My father is a physician and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and is thus quite busy much of the time. He's a wonderful man, though we're not very close. My mother is --" Beautiful. Perfect -- 

Brucie. 

Yes, Fox. 

"My mother spends much of her time directing the charitable works of the Wayne Foundation, but we're much closer." 

Dick cocks his head to the side. "Is she nice?" 

"Yes, she's very kind... though not to everyone. She has very little patience for the willfully ignorant or the willfully cruel."

Or for Dad.

That... too. Bruce frowns. "There are also... I believe there are problems in her marriage to my father. I'm only just learning about them myself, however. I hope that they can work it out. Is your mother --" 

"She was a townie once," Dick says, and begins to rock and move -- 

The flip up onto his hands is sudden and perfect, beautiful -- 

"She -- my Dad took her away from all that." 

"Do you think she ever misses it?" 

"I think she misses the money she could've made," Dick says, and paces several yards away on his hands. "It's just that I can *see* her thinking, then, about all the townies she would've had to deal with every day, and then she stops worrying." 

"There *are* some worthwhile people outside the realm of the circus, Dick --" 

"Like you?" 

"I try to be worthwhile. To lead... to lead a worthy life." 

"Mm-hm. I think you probably manage it pretty well, Bruce," and Dick balances on one hand and splits -- 

"That's beautiful --" 

"Sexy?" 

"I believe I'm appreciating you aesthetically --" 

"What does that mean?" 

"I am... you're a work of art." 

Dick snorts and tilts his head to look at him from under his lashes. "Do you want to fuck art *often*, Bruce?" 

"There are certain sculptures I've wished could come to life --" 

Dick *chokes* -- and flips back to his feet, twisting in mid-air apparently solely because he can. "You weren't supposed to say *yes* to that, Bruce!" 

"I'm -- sorry?" 

A grin -- 

"I'd like to sketch you, if you wouldn't mind." 

Dick blinks. "You *draw*, too?" 

"For pleasure, yes. I have many sketches of my brother --" 

"What's *he* like?" 

"His name is Harvey, and he's an Assistant District Attorney in Gotham --" 

"*He* works, too?"

Bruce smiles helplessly. "I believe he would become quite aggressive with someone who tried to stop him from doing so." 

Dick pushes up on his toes -- 

Turns and does a triple back-flip down the length of the bench before landing perfectly, solidly, *masterfully* -- 

"Are you sure --" 

He cartwheels back and drops to his knees beside Bruce. "Kiss me?" 

"I would like very much to do so, but --" 

Dick sighs. "I don't -- how do you seduce someone?" 

"I never have. Not in the way I believe you mean." 

Dick's expression twists. "I guess you are good-looking enough not to have to." 

"Thank you --" 

"But how *would* you do it if you were going to?" 

"I would... try to learn the tastes of the person I was hoping to seduce. I would study them obsessively, and try to see what sort of people caught their eye, and then see if I could become more like them --" 

"*Bruce*." 

"I -- yes?" 

"You're *not* supposed to be with someone if you can't be yourself. Even *I* know that." 

"That is very wise. Still... my first lover..." Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "I believe I would have made myself anything for him." 

Dick bites his lip. "What was his name?" 

"I can't tell you that."

"Where is he now?" 

"We're still quite close... but we haven't made love in three years." 

"He broke up with you." 

"Yes." 

"You -- never would've left him?" 

Bruce smiles. "Never. Have you ever... have you loved?" 

Dick shakes his head. 

"There is... it hurts. Not the pain of loss, or the pain of never having. There is a pain specific to loving and being loved in turn, and it tastes of sweetness and... a kind of surrender." 

Dick's eyes are -- wide. The blue speaks of clear sunlit seas, bright and warm against the olive of his skin.

"Love... love can drive you to your knees. Love can push you to feats you never imagined possible. Love can make you weep for the perfect, stunning joy of touch --" 

"Um." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

"How did he seduce *you*?" 

Bruce closes his eyes and remembers how wide Harvey's had been, how dark with arousal and hunger -- 

("You know, don't you?" 

"Harv?" 

"You know what I need.") 

He hadn't then. He remembers being *precisely* that ignorant -- 

("God, fuck, Bruce --") 

And Harvey had stepped closer and reached for him -- 

And dropped his hand -- 

And reached *again* -- 

And *winced* when Bruce took his hand in his own, and Bruce knew that he had somehow done the wrong thing, somehow offered *hurt* - 

("Please tell me, Harv. You -- I'll do *anything*.") 

And their dorm room had been chilly and dark, and Harvey's palm had been warm and damp, and -- 

("Big guy, I. I don't know how to *do* this." 

"Do *what*?")

Harvey had laughed then, covering his face and rocking back and forth -- 

("Two. Two ways to -- but I'm not supposed to think like that anymore. I'm not supposed -- Bruce, I *need* you --") 

And Bruce had pulled Harvey close, meaning to hug him, and stroke him, and dream of better, firmer touches *later* --

"He told me... I could see the pain in his eyes. I could see that something was making him *ache*. I knew nothing about what it could be. It never occurred to me that he could feel the same pain I had been feeling for a year and a half. While I knew that there was nothing truly wrong with homosexuality -- I had been assured of this by a physician friend of my father's -- I was precisely young enough not to realize how very many 'normal' men and women had the same feelings I did. He told me he needed me, and when I moved to hug him, he kissed me." 

Dick's lips are parted now, and his eyes -- 

"Dick...?" 

"How did he touch you? The first time, I mean."

"He kissed me... many times. I began to shake -- violently -- immediately. The scent of him was high in my nose, and the only way I could find to keep my hands from shaking *too* much was to clutch at him. His shoulders, his waist, his hips, his buttocks...." Bruce touches his tongue to his lip in memory, and -- "We tripped each other and fell -- bruisingly hard -- to the cold floor. He rolled on top of me, and we drove against each other for what felt like hours in some ways and *seconds* in others. He shouted my name as he ejaculated, but I could only whimper and groan."

Dick bites his lip again. "Is that -- you were dressed?" 

"In our pajamas, yes. We had been... close friends nearly from the time we met, and were spending the night together." The lie of omission feels terrible -- "I'm sorry, Dick, I can't give you as much detail as I would like to --" 

"Did you. Did you ever suck his dick?" 

"Many times. His taste was so... thickly male --" 

Dick moans and -- flushes. "Um. Um. Did he suck *yours*?" 

"Yes. He would... he would drop to his knees and clutch at me, demand that I *take* his mouth -- and his throat --" 

Another moan -- 

"Dick --" 

"I want. I want that. I've never... sucked anyone off." 

"It's one of the great pleasures --" 

"With *Luthor*," Dick says, and scowls. "He doesn't *deserve* a blowjob." 

"Because of the things he's said about Superman?" 

"Yes! Superman is the world's greatest hero, and he's nice -- kind, like you said, and he's smart, and he's -- um. Really handsome, too." 

And almost certainly *listening*. And the Fox's growl manages to be amused *and* worried. 

Yes, I... hm. "I... there is one secret I can share." 

"You -- you've been sharing *lots* of secrets!" 

"They aren't secret to me --" 

"So the world *knows* you're bi? And are dating a teenager?" 

Bruce opens his mouth -- and closes it again. 

Dick's snicker is somewhat breathless, and he cups Bruce's shoulders. 

Bruce turns to make it easier for him -- 

And Dick stares at his mouth. He -- 

"Dick..." 

"Tell me anyway. Tell me the *secret*, so I can --" 

"Lex and Superman are working on a project together." 

"What -- how --" 

"Lex's agents discovered a young girl being abused by an assassin, but could not rescue her before the assassin killed them all --" 

"Oh my *God*!" 

"Indeed. They have put aside their differences for this, and I have hopes that it will bode well for the future." 

"I -- what were Lex's 'agents' looking for that they found an assassin?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Something I vastly disagreed with." 

"But you don't disagree anymore -- he's not even *hot*!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I find him to be quite beautiful. I've known him since we were fourteen." 

"You said *I* was beautiful." 

"You are --" 

"I *don't* want to be in the same category as someone who -- who has to have a child in danger before they can agree to be nice to Superman." 

God, I think I can *feel* the big alien freak hovering above us. 

He wouldn't have to be very far up to be effectively invisible. 

He could be here *molesting* Dick in seconds -- 

We can't allow that to happen. 

Of *course* we can't -- but. 

But...? 

The Fox's expression quirks to something amused and pained at once. What if Dick *wants* the bastard? 

Bruce -- 

Bruce feels the fragile inroads he had made into allowing Kent the benefit of the doubt begin to crack and *crumble*. 

Not -- not that we should ever stand in Dick's way, Brucie. Not for -- 

The boy -- the boy must be free -- 

"*Well*?" 

"Dick... do you desire Superman?" 

Dick looks at him as if he's quite mad -- "Who *doesn't*?" 

"Hm. I... yes, I suppose --" 

"Did you *meet* him?" 

"Briefly, yes --" 

"Oh my *God*! What's he *like*?" 

How -- how to even answer -- 

Be *honest*, Brucie -- 

I *can't* -- not truly -- 

Then be honest *obliquely*. 

Bruce nods internally. "He is... inhuman --" 

"*Obviously* --" 

"No, Dick, I -- wait a moment?" 

Dick frowns and nods, planting his hands on the small stretch of bench between them and lifting himself enough to swing -- 

"Are you sure... you're not wearing yourself out?" 

This look speaks more of Bruce's *idiocy* than his madness. 

"Ah... of course. As I was saying, he is inhuman. There is something about him which is almost quintessentially alien, something which goes far beyond his powers -- and his will to use them -- and stops somewhere..." Bruce frowns. "No, that's incorrect. His powers are vast and growing, and they separate him from humanity. There could be no other result. He achieves something very close to omniscience and omnipresence --" 

"What does *that* mean?" 

"That his powers are more aptly understood by those who have studied religion than by those who have studied the sciences." 

Dick frowns. "Are you saying he's like a *god*?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "A god raised among humans, and exposed to and influenced *by* all the good, bad, and neutral things that humanity gives. There was a time when humans felt comforted by gods with human failings and feelings, but, for me at least, that time has passed. He is... powerful beyond all reason --" 

"You sound like you're *afraid* of him!" 

"I am, Dick --" 

"But -- he'd *never* --" 

"He has the same capacity to grow angry -- or grief-stricken, or simply *upset* -- as any man, yet the power at his disposal rivals... well. He is... he is a storm in the body of a beautiful man. He is lightning and thunder and the gale. He is... vastly intimidating," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. 

"He's *also* a guy who likes to play with his flying dog, and who rebuilds libraries that get knocked down by tornadoes, and who eats pie, and who gets together with other heroes to save the *world*," Dick says, and pushes him lightly. "What does *Lex* do?" 

Far, far too many things, at times. But. "He's done more to modernize and protect this country's -- and the world's -- police departments than anyone else. He has scientists working on crops which could, if all goes well, come close to ending world hunger. He donates heavily to AIDS research --" 

Dick pushes him again. "Why do you like him *better*?" 

Bruce catches Dick's hand in his own and kisses his fingertips -- 

"Oh!" 

"Oh -- I wasn't supposed to -- I'm sorry --" 

"No! Don't -- apologize. Um." 

Bruce squeezes Dick's hand gently. "You... enjoyed that."

"Yeah. I... you could kiss me other --" 

"Lex is a feverishly brilliant man who cannot sit still or cease thinking. Ever. He has... he is soft, and warm, and needy, and hungry, and teasing, and cruel, and loving, and lonely." 

Dick frowns. "*Superman* could be all of those things, too. You don't know!" 

Dick's a lot more *likely* to find out than we are. 

All too true. Bruce frowns and brings Dick's hand to his mouth again. Just -- just to breathe warm on his fingers -- 

Dick moans. "Bruuuce. Um." He wriggles oddly, then pushes up on *one* hand and spreads his legs to either side -- 

And it becomes brilliantly, beautifully, and staggeringly clear that Dick had been tucking his penis back between his thighs. "Dick." 

"I'm a virgin." 

"I -- oh?" 

"I've just. I mean, I've kissed all kinds of girls. And... um. Teased a lot of guys. The pervs, you know. The ones who come here *just* to see a really flexible little boy in tight clothes." 

"That's -- that's very dangerous --" 

"I never let them get me too far away from my family. You know, the circus people. The men. And some of the women. And some of the men and women with weapons. I -- heh. I wanna tease you." 

"You've made an excellent start --" 

"I just. I also want you to lick me. Suck me. I wanna know how you'll describe what I taste like." 

Bruce shivers and leans in -- 

BRUCE. 

He stops himself and leans back. "You are... so beautiful." 

"You *said* --" 

"I want to taste you everywhere." 

"You -- what --" 

"There is an act... analingus." 

"Anal *what*?" 

"Some... some call it 'rimming' --" 

"Oh, *ew*! You *like* that?" 

"I could make -- I could make my lover shake with need that way in moments. He could make me cry out and sob." 

Wide eyes. *Shocked* eyes -- "It feels that *good*?" 

Bruce smiles. "There are many, many nerve endings there, Dick. Is it truly that strange?" 

"I know. I haven't -- I mean, it's not like I get horny when I'm taking a *crap*." 

"Some people do --" 

"Eugh!" 

"But yes, I agree with your distaste. I have far too many difficult kinks and *issues* with my sexuality already. I wouldn't want to build those sorts of associations. No, I... when you were taking yourself today --" 

"It only -- it took less than five *minutes*." 

And that... is more than a little derailing. The images there. The *possibilities*. 

The time it would've taken Dick to lubricate himself and the toy -- or. 

Was the condom pre-lubricated? Would that even be sufficient? For a boy like -- 

"Bruce? You... you're kinda staring." 

"I. Would you like to learn control, Dick?" 

Dick frowns. "You mean... what do you mean?" 

"Would you like to... last longer." 

Dick pants -- but only twice. "Sometimes. Sometimes I want it to go on for *hours* --" 

"Then --" 

"But I still live with my parents in a *trailer*, Bruce. I mean. Faster is *better*." 

For now, anyway. 

Fox...? 

I... I don't know what I meant by that. 

Are you sure? 

I'm *sure*... that we can blow Dick's *mind*. 

We could pleasure him. 

We could make him come *screaming*. 

Over. Over and over -- 

I'm. I'm keeping you from getting hard, Brucie -- 

That's. For the best -- 

I can't keep *me* from getting hard. 

Oh. Fox... 

Touch him. Just -- 

Bruce reaches out to stroke Dick's cheek, and Dick isn't blinking quite enough. He's staring, and his lips are parted, and he is -- 

So -- incredible. 

Yes, Fox -- 

Tell him -- 

"Your skin..." Bruce shakes his head and swallows -- 

"I -- I already said it's not soft --" 

"It is, though. It..." Bruce turns his hand and caresses Dick's cheek with the back of it. "There is a downiness to it --" 

"I want to be hairy like my Dad when I grow up." 

"There's often no way to be sure --" 

"Lex doesn't have *any* hair, they say." 

"It's true --" 

"Is that what you like?" 

Bruce turns his hand again and caresses Dick's other cheek. "Yes... but I'm not sure if I'd enjoy it on anyone else. I enjoyed my first male lover's stubble a great deal." 

Dick darts in -- 

And Bruce catches him by the shoulders and holds him away from himself. "Dick --" 

"There's nothing wrong with *kissing*, Bruce!" 

"It's. It's inappropriate --" 

"So is this whole conversation!" 

He's got a point, Brucie. 

Not. Not the sort of point we can agree with? 

You're asking -- of course you're asking me. Uh. 

Bruce waits. 

Maybe... maybe the legal argument? 

Bruce licks his lips. "This conversation isn't... actively felonious." 

"Are you *sure*?" 

The Fox *snorts* -- and Bruce laughs softly. "Not even remotely. I don't. I don't wish to abuse you, Dick." 

"Then *don't*. Just -- um. Make love to me," and Dick blushes very deeply, indeed.

Bruce squeezes his shoulders. "Are the words... difficult to say?" 

"I don't know if I'm old enough to make love," Dick mutters. 

"Then --" 

"I *do* know that I'm old enough to have *sex*." 

"To... you are a wonderful, brilliant --" 

"Stop complimenting me and let's --" 

"Dickie? Are you in here?" 

Dick's eyes widen almost comically, but, when he moves away from Bruce, the motions are *both* calm and quick. "I'm right here, Annie!" 

Annie walks further into the tent -- revealing herself to be a vast, pale mountain of a woman. Her hair is a mass of red-gold curls, her mouth is a deeply peach bow, and her eyes are an almost jeweled green. She -- jiggles. "Who's *that*?" 

"He's Bruce Wayne, Annie! He --" 

"Oh, *my*!" And Annie moves with grace and *shocking* speed up the bleachers -- "Look at you! What are you doing *here*?" 

Dick frowns. "You *know* who he is?" 

"He's in *all* the papers, Dickie," Annie says, absently ruffling Dick's hair before turning to smile *sharply* at him. "Wanna buy a circus?" 

"Increasingly," Bruce says honestly. "Dick has been telling me a little about the problems faced by a small circus like yours." 

Annie giggles. "He has, has he? Oh, Dickie, admit it -- you took one look at those shoes and decided he was worth a chisel." 

"*Annie*!" 

Annie *hoots* and waves Dick off. "Get on with you, monkeyboy. Your papa tells me you didn't do all your homework, yet." 

Dick bites his lip in something which looks very much like *anguish* -- 

"Oh, now, don't give me that look. *I* didn't tell you not to hit the books!" 

"Yes, Annie," Dick says -- and gives Bruce a *hot* look before running -- and leaping off the side of the bleachers. The drop is easily ten feet -- but he doesn't even pause before running out of the big top entirely. 

"Remarkable," Bruce says helplessly --

"Mm-*hm*. And thirteen going on three *hundred*. I *saw* that look he gave you."

"He seems... affectionate."

Annie gives him a shrewd look. "How *many* times did you have to push him off your lap?" 

Bruce coughs -- 

"Thought so. Be *careful*, Mr. Wayne. You may be richer than Croesus, but there are a lot of *cranky* men and women at this circus who are *all* invested in Dickie's innocence." Another snort. "What's *left* of it." 

Bruce inclines his head. "I assure you, I have no designs on his virtue --" 

"Oh my goodness. Do people really talk like that?" 

"I do," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "Much to the chagrin and embarrassment of my loved ones. He is... home-schooled?" 

"Mm-hm. Just like all the kids here. His mama has a degree in math, and she gets together with some of the other parents to keep all the kids learning as much as they can, so that they have the *option* of going out into the real world when they're old enough." 

"Do many of them leave?" 

"Not when I was just a *little* big, fat woman, but now? Most of them do, more's the pity," Annie says, and looks him over. "We're a good circus, Mr. Wayne --" 

"Please, call me Bruce." 

Annie fans herself with exaggerated fluster. "*Bruce*, then. You just wait and see. And then get some of your friends -- and their wallets -- together and make an investment for the future of independent entertainment." 

"As you say --" 

"My, my, my. *Did* you come alone today?" 

"I'm afraid so. The woman who was to accompany me had a family emergency --" 

Annie... hums. And jiggles somewhat *alarmingly* -- 

The bleachers are *creaking* -- 

Where are we even supposed to *look*, Brucie? 

Why on earth are you asking *me*? 

I -- I -- 

Smile. I think I'm going to smile -- 

Do it, Brucie! 

Bruce smiles.

Annie stops jiggling and bites her lip. 

The bleachers continue to creak. 

Annie looks *worried* -- 

"I. Perhaps I should stop smiling." 

She bites her lip somewhat harder -- and then sighs and pats the top of Bruce's head. "Let's go get you some funnel cake." 

"All right --" 

"Stop smiling." 

"Yes, Annie."


	20. Chapter 20

Bruce comes back to the tent well before the show is set to begin -- and sees that a few dozen people have chosen to do the same. Still, no one has chosen to sit in the area with the best view of the high wire and trapezes, and Bruce takes a seat there immediately. It makes him feel greedy and somewhat shamed -- 

He promises himself that he'll move if a child wishes -- 

Most kids will prefer the front, Brucie. 

Even though that will entail a great deal of neck-craning -- yes, I remember being just the same. 

Get comfy. *Are* we buying the circus?

I think it would probably be quite a large expense. Just the same... 

Yes? 

Yes. And we will follow. 

And steal time with Dickie. 

As much -- as much as we can. 

He's... he's something else. 

Something other. 

Stunning. 

Rather... rather like a blow to the cervical spine. 

I'm pretty sure that's the kind of simile I'm supposed to make, Brucie. 

You'd say 'neck.' 

Semantics. 

I'm reasonably sure you shouldn't use the word 'semantics.' 

It sounds like 'semen.' Totally fair game. 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. You're right, of course. 

The Fox stretches within him and buffs his fingernails on his shirt. It is, abruptly, scarlet. 

His trousers are gold. 

His sash is *green* -- Fox. 

The Fox wiggles his hips. This is probably why you shouldn't let me dress myself. 

Hm. I thought... I mean. Zorro wouldn't wear that -- 

And neither would the Grey Ghost, I know, I know, but *Harv* wouldn't be too shocked if I showed up on Central dressed like this sometime. 

Jim might give up on you altogether, Fox. 

The Fox throws himself back on the bed which is suddenly there. "Like you *don't* want him to pistol-whip you and then throw you down right *there*," and he's stroking down and down his body -- 

The black is flowing *into* the silk -- 

The Fox is hard. 

I... he's very. He could be very. 

He could grab us by the back of the neck and push our face *down*. 

As. As he entered us? 

Slow. Hard -- 

Relentless, perhaps -- 

The sound of his breathing would be -- 

He smokes too much, Fox -- 

Yeah. And that would make it even rougher. Make it sound like he was losing it. 

Bruce bites the tip of his tongue and joins Fox on the bed, cupping him through the trousers -- oh. 

What is it, Brucie? 

Where is your *jock*? 

I don't *wear* a jock to bed. And -- you probably shouldn't, either. 

Harvey was very sexy when he would come to me straight from baseball practice -- 

Harvey knew your *kinks* -- 

Thankfully not all of them.

And the Fox snorts and turns to grin at him. You're not so bad. 

You had to *leash* me around -- 

The most beautiful boy in the world...? 

Hm. I believe now *you're* 'jinxing' us, Fox. 

The Fox snickers and rolls his head back and forth. God, I don't even know, Brucie. If it turns out there *are* boys out there prettier than that, it might be time to go for the saltpeter. 

Does that actually *work*? 

Not even a little. You've got some theories about hormone therapy, though. 

I -- didn't know that. 

You're thinking about eighteen things at once pretty much all the time, Brucie. Don't worry -- I'm *absolutely* keeping track. 

Do you -- you're making me think you could use a secretary, Fox. 

The Fox *chokes* -- and punches Bruce's biceps. Stop that. We don't need more fragments running around here. Or figments for that matter. 

Even if... 

What? 

And Bruce calls up an image of Dick in spandex much like his parents'. It hugs his form as he twists and spins and flips -- 

As he *smiles* -- 

As he steps through -- 

The Fox almost *throws* the image into the black -- and smacks the back of Bruce's head. No figments. I mean it. 

But --

You *will* start talking to him like he's the real guy, and then he'll get more real, and then he'll take something away from *both* of us, because that's what *happens* when figments become fragments. 

Bruce frowns and turns to trace Fox's features with his fingertips. His stubble is quite rakish at the moment, and -- do you think of yourself as a fragment? 

I'm you, Brucie. It's just that I'm not all of you... and you're not all of you, either. We're *both* fragments. 

I don't *feel* -- 

Would you feel whole if I weren't here?

Of course not -- hm. 

Yeah. 

That seems -- 

No, Bruce. 

But -- if I had been speaking metaphorically -- 

You were and you weren't. You *love* me, and you need me, and you even want me, and that's part of how I make you feel whole, but there's also the -- uh -- call it the gross facts of our existence. Look down. 

Bruce does -- and his groin and part of his torso is *translucent*. What --

That's how you look to me sometimes. 

*When*?

When I feel like this, and the Fox gestures so that Bruce will look up -- 

And the Fox's head is wreathed in smoke and shadows -- no. No, it's not entirely *there*. It -- *Fox* -- 

Another gesture -- and they're back to normal. Or... 

Or. We are... fragments. 

Yeah. We are. 

Should we... I don't know what we should do -- 

You really do -- 

I don't know what we should do given that we love and need each other. Were we one, we would know loneliness once more. 

We'd talk to ourselves less. 

Is that really something to strive for? I *need* your advice and acumen -- 

You'd have it, though, Brucie. You -- I *am* you. You'd never have to question again. 

I *like* questioning --

No. You like not *knowing*. You -- Fox sits up and shakes his head, then cups Bruce's face in much the same way Harvey used to. 

Fox -- 

Bruce... with us separate, you have the option of pretending you don't understand the world we live in. You get to wallow and drift and *sleep* -- all without ever dreaming or thinking deeply. 

I do -- but. Mostly when you push. Bruce frowns. I'm sorry I've made you work so hard -- 

I don't *mind*. I love -- I love being here for you, and giving you what you need, and protecting you, and holding you -- 

Because -- because I made you just that way. 

We *made* me -- ah, hell, I don't even know how to *express* it sometimes -- 

You do well, Fox. *Always*. 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "I have you to thank for that, too. I... I'm not advising you to swallow me back into yourself. I can't do that. I *want* to, because I know it would be best in the long-run, but I also... I just want to be *here* with you whenever possible. I just... 

Fox, I... I love you --

And I love you. Always, Brucie. And I think... I think, if we're careful, it'll all be okay. We just can't ever lie to each other, or hide from each other, or any of that. 

And... and we cannot splinter ourselves any more than we have already done. 

The Fox nods, and brushes his gloved thumb over Bruce's mouth. The material is heavy, and the scent gives Bruce the night, flight, violence and *pleasure* -- 

Bruce bites down gently -- 

No more of us, Brucie. Promise me. 

Bruce nods -- 

And the Fox takes his thumb away and turns to look into the darkness -- and then he laughs. Take a look. 

Bruce blinks his way back out into the world -- the tent is much more full than it had been... 

And the Drakes are sitting on the bench beneath Bruce's own. None of them are looking at *him* -- 

But where they're sitting is about as accidental as your average mob hit. 

As you say. Father would be disappointed if we didn't -- 

This is *all* you, Brucie. You might have to work with these people someday. 

Very true. Bruce leans forward and taps gently on Jack Drake's shoulder. "Pardon me..." 

The man turns instantly, surrendering everything in the way of casualness -- 

Look how irritated the woman is -- 

I see. 

"Can I help -- oh, say, you're Bruce Wayne!" 

Bruce smiles politely. "So I am. Forgive me, but are you Jack Drake of Drake Industries?" 

The man's smile is honestly pleased -- "I sure am. Please, call me Jack," he says, turning more fully and offering his hand. 

Bruce shakes it and offers a broader smile. "Jack, then. Please call me Bruce. I'm afraid I know all too little of your work in Gotham, but..." What to say -- ah. "My parents commended you to me some time ago." 

"That's very kind of them. Please, give them our regards -- oh, where are my manners? This lovely woman beside me is my wife Janet, and the little guy desperately waiting for the acrobats is Tim." 

Bruce smiles and offers his hand to Janet, who smiles warmly as she shakes his hand. Warmly everywhere save her eyes. He turns to Tim... 

The boy is staring at the platforms high above the ground as if the Graysons will materialize there out of the ether -- 

"*Tim*," Janet says, voice clipped and sharp -- 

The boy jumps and turns to stare wide-eyed at his mother, who nods toward *him* with an expectant look. This makes the boy turn further, and his stare is nearly *panicked* -- but he straightens his shoulders like a much older boy and offers his small, damp hand. "Hello, sir." 

Bruce covers Tim's hand with his own -- in truth, he winds up covering a sizeable fraction of his forearm, as well -- and smiles as gently as he's able. "Please call me Bruce... if I may call you Tim?" 

"Yes -- Bruce. It is a pleasure to meet you and I am sorry I was not paying attention," he says, and the words are neither rushed nor emotionless, but clearly practiced -- 

He's too young for this shit, Brucie. 

Agreed. I feel... hm. I feel that something is needed, though I am not sure what it could be. 

Wing it. Maybe we'll find the right answer. 

"It's quite all right, Tim. I saw you earlier with Dick. Are you excited to see him perform?"

Tim's smile for that is brilliant, and he actually *shivers* -- "Oh, *yes*, Bruce! He said he'd do this trick -- a trick -- he said --" Tim frowns thunderously and shakes his head with vicious precision. "No. I am sorry. He said he would do his special trick just for me and I know he probably says that to a lot of people it seems like something that would happen he's so nice!" 

Jack chuckles for that -- but Janet seems irritated again. Hm. 

Bruce turns his attention to all three of them. "I had the opportunity to speak with Dick myself for some time earlier. I can easily see how he could make such a favorable impression," he says, and then turns back to Tim for long enough to open his hand and pat *Tim's* hand -- 

And Janet's expression for that is shrewd. Hmm. 

"Your son is quite well-spoken for... how old is he?" 

Janet nods to Tim once more -- 

"I am three years old, Bruce. I will be four this summer." 

He looks *two* -- 

Indeed. 

I'm not even gonna get on your case for that 'indeed' because -- 

Because this is not... correct. Bruce fixes a polite smile on his face. "Which of you are responsible for teaching him so well...?" 

"Oh, that's all Jan--" 

"Both of us, Bruce," Janet says, and offers another smile which doesn't reach as far as it should. "Family is important, don't you think?" 

"Oh... I believe it can be the most important thing in the world." 

And *I* believe she's underestimating the hell out of us. 

The question is -- do we let that continue? 

The Fox moves up beside him and narrows his eyes at Janet, rubbing at his mustache and frowning. For now. But not -- not too much. 

" -- your own family, Bruce?" 

"Quite well, thank you. I just visited with my mother only yesterday, and I spend a great deal of time with my brother, of course." 

Jack turns to Tim. "Bruce's brother is that lawyer you saw on TV and liked so much, champ." 

Tim turns away from the platforms again and blinks up at Bruce -- but doesn't say anything. 

Bruce smiles again. "It's all right, Tim. What would you like to know?" 

Tim bites his lip -- 

Janet squeezes his small shoulder -- 

And Tim blinks and fixes his posture minutely and *rigidly*. "Bruce, I would like to know if... if your brother is as nice a person as he seems." He cuts his eyes at his mother -- 

Her irritation is so -- 

"He's a wonderful person, Tim. Even when he was young, he was always kind, and giving, and wise, and passionate about justice. And, of course, he's quite brilliant. Are you interested in becoming a lawyer someday?" 

"I am going to be the CEO of Drake Industries when I'm -- when I am old enough, Bruce. However, if there is time, I will study law on the side." 

That -- Bruce smiles helplessly. "Perhaps you and your family could have dinner with my own someday, Tim. Harvey would love to talk to you about the law." 

And Tim's eyes are wide and full -- 

His mouth is slightly open -- until Janet clears her throat, at which point the Tim shuts it tightly and seems to attempt to will his spine to lose all trace of its natural curve. 

Bruce pats his hand again. "Don't be so nervous, Tim. I think... well, you remind me very much of myself at your age. There were few things I wanted more than to make a good impression on my elders." 

"It is very important to show... yourself to be... intelligent and polite and... you have to be a good listener." 

Bruce nods. "I've also been told by any number of intelligent, polite good listeners that it's important to have fun." 

Tim frowns at him. There -- there can't possibly be a furrow in his brow -- 

There really can, Brucie. 

Toddlers -- are not supposed to *work* that way.

Well -- 

Fox, I'm really almost entirely sure about this -- 

Go with it for now. Trust me. 

Of course. Bruce pats Tim one more time and turns back to Janet. "So does Tim have any little brothers or sisters on the way?" 

Janet's smile could cut through *steel* --"No. Though I won't say I haven't considered it," she lies, and then leans back to look him up and down. "What about you, Bruce? I haven't heard about any serious girlfriends for you." 

"Oh, Janet, you know how the local media is about the Waynes," Jack says, and squeezes her hand. "They probably have to pay all sorts of people just to keep their lives somewhat private." 

Bruce inclines his head to Jack. "It's true. But it's also true that I'm not currently seeing anyone seriously. I, haaa, leave that sort of thing to my brother." 

Janet raises an eyebrow. "*Will* he be tying the knot soon?" 

"This summer, actually. We're all thrilled for him, of course. His fiancée is a wonderful woman and a brilliant artist." 

"Bruce..." 

"Yes, Janet?" 

This smile has somewhat more life -- and a great deal more *interest*. 

Be *careful*, Brucie -- 

Yes. 

"I can't help but notice that you have a way with... young people." 

Oh, dear. 

Yeah, she's no fool. 

Bruce laughs. "My brother would say that I'm just rather dramatically oversized child myself, Janet. No, the truth is that between my laboratory work and the little things I do around the office, I haven't had much time for... much. I am, at heart, a quiet kind of person." Bruce pulls on a rueful smile. "And the only -- women I seem to attract are rather desperately exciting for my taste." 

Janet's expression quirks. "Are you saying you lead a monastic existence, Bruce...?" 

"Hm. Hopefully with rather more hair and rather *less* homespun wool," Bruce says, and raises his eyebrows -- 

Jack and Janet laugh together -- and Tim chimes in with a quiet hum. 

Bruce smiles good-naturedly. "Of course, the *real* truth is that I've been blessed with some few wonderful close friends -- all of whom lead lives as decidedly private as my own. And I believe we can leave it at that...?" 

Jack laughs and playfully punches Bruce's knee. Janet narrows her eyes *slightly* -- and then smiles brilliantly. "Of course, Bruce. We're all... hmm... *people* of the world." 

She's gonna have more eyes on you than Argos. 

Perhaps the Fox can find creative ways to blind them. 

Oh, Brucie. You *do* love me. 

Always, brother. 

Jack scratches at his thick and somewhat bushy mustache lightly. "So how did *you* wind up talking to Dick Grayson, Bruce? That kid seemed more *whirlwind* than boy." 

Hmm... Bruce smiles again. "The man who owns this circus is looking for investors. Apparently, he's ruthless enough to send diminutive forces of nature after any and all potential sources of funding." 

Jack blinks. "You were talking to the boy about *investments*?" 

Bruce laughs. "As immature as I am, I don't actually have that much in common with teenaged acrobats, Jack. He's a remarkable boy, though. His mother has a mathematics degree, and she and several of the other parents... hm. I suppose it *is* still called home-schooling when one is traveling all over the continent." 

"*Do* you do much work with the Wayne Foundation's children's charities, Bruce?" And Janet's expression is back to being almost painfully shrewd. 

That woman would blackmail us in a heartbeat, Brucie. 

Yes. "I'm afraid not, Janet. While I believe passionately in the work my mother and her employees do, I really do spend the lion's share of my time in the lab." He makes a point of smiling somewhat vacuously at Tim, who is staring at the platforms once more. "Perhaps I'll let her talk me out of my lab coat more often." 

Janet snorts. "More power to you. Though, honestly, Bruce, you ought to consider having children of your own." 

I think she'd staple her son to anyone we bred. 

That sounds like an excellent reason *to* breed -- 

I *want* to say we can't save everyone, but -- 

You want to save Tim, too. 

Yeah. Maybe we can... I don't know. *Something*. 

We will think on the matter together, and Bruce shakes his head and laughs. "Someday in the *future*, please, Janet. I still have one or two wild oats to sow --" 

And then the drums begin -- 

And the trumpets -- 

Tim shivers and claps *vigorously* -- 

And the Haly's Circus performers troop into the tent and parade around the vast oval. There are elephants and dogs, horses and bears, tigers and monkeys -- 

There are clowns and tumblers -- 

There are mimes and dancers -- 

Tim leaps to his feet -- "Oh! Oh!" 

And there is Dick, flipping and tumbling, twisting and leaping, smiling and *dancing* -- 

His parents somehow manage to keep pace with him, and they smile and wave to the crowd, both of them pausing to blow kisses precisely at those moments when Dick leaps up onto the partition separating the audience from the performers and exhorts the crowd to cheer. 

He is -- 

Yeah. Yeah, he really, really is. 

Bruce settles in to watch.


	21. Chapter 21

Bruce -- 

There is a moment when he can only stare uncomprehending at the scene --

Dick. Dick is still alive, still whole -- 

There is a moment when he doesn't know whether he'll vomit or scream -- 

Dick is *staring*, staring so -- 

There is blood, and it spreads and pools -- 

Dick needs -- 

There are screams, and they rise around him from dozens, hundreds of throats -- 

There is a moment when he doesn't understand the sensations he's feeling in his *hands* -- 

You covered Tim's eyes, Bruce. We have to --

Fox. Fox, I --

*Move*! 

And Bruce realizes even from the stands that the ropes aren't frayed enough to explain -- 

He's already moving. He -- 

It takes nearly three minutes to get out of the tent, and the sprint to the car eats *another* three. He forces himself not to time himself as he pulls on the Fox --

He must *concentrate*. He must -- 

Alfred is saying something, Bruce -- 

What. What is it -- 

I don't know I don't know HURRY -- 

The trousers bunch beneath the boots -- 

He *fixes* them, he must -- 

He owes the boy everything -- 

He owes -- 

"-- *sir*!" 

"The Graysons. They -- they were murdered. In *front* of me. I have to --" Bruce shakes his head and sobs -- no, not that -- 

The *mustache* -- 

Bruce chooses the mustache which is incrementally longer than the one he wore last night and pastes it down -- 

And ties his scarf -- 

And pulls on his gloves -- 

*Now*, the Fox says, rearing back and *snarling* -- "*Don't* wait up, Alfred," and the Fox launches himself from the car and runs, studying the fleeing crowd for suspicious faces -- 

Could it have been an inside job? 

What sort of pressures truly fall on a circus like this?

*When* was the cut made?

The Fox runs faster, but soon enough he's forced to push against the waves of humanity -- 

Fox, there's a better -- 

Yeah. And the Fox breaks right and runs until there's a good hundred yards between him and the growing bottleneck. He uses a knife to slash through the canvas -- 

Perhaps we should make sure there's no *stampede*, Fox -- 

The Fox points as he moves, forgetting that Bruce can't *see* if he's not looking -- 

I trust you. 

The clowns. The clowns are directing traffic, and -- the Fox shivers and moves for the cluster of people in the center of the ring -- 

The Fox nods for the sound of sirens in the distance -- 

"Hey, who the fuck are you?" The ringmaster's eyeliner is streaked and he grabs the Fox's arm -- 

The Fox growls because he must -- 

"It's the Fox!" 

"-- protects Gotham --" 

" -- the fuck --" 

"-- townie fucker --" 

" -- Fox --" 

"The *Fox*?" Dick's voice cuts through everything else, every sound, every -- 

Dick's voice is *thick* with tears -- 

Unshed tears, going by how pale he is under the skin when he pushes everyone back and strides toward him. "Where *were* you?" 

Bruce shivers within him, but -- "Too far, Dickie. Too -- what can you tell me about who --" 

"Where *were* you?" he asks, again, and his voice is a little strident now, a little closer to hysterical -- 

The Fox drops to one knee. "I can't do anything to help your parents now -- but I can help you avenge them. Will you let me?" 

Dick stares at him unblinkingly for a long moment, but then the twitches begin. 

His cheek. 

His forehead. 

The corners of his mouth -- 

The Fox growls and pulls Dick against him, holding him tightly -- 

"Hey, asshole, get the hell --" 

But when Dick sobs and clings to him with desperate *power*, the voices fade to nothing. Everything -- 

Everything fades but this moment, and the smell of sweat and tears, and the rank corruption of blood leaking, leaking -- 

The Fox holds on. He doesn't close his eyes. 

He doesn't move. 

Soon enough, the police gather and begin asking questions, pulling everyone away but them. No one will interrupt yet.

No one will come close. And --

We can. 

No, Fox. We *must*. 

I agree. The Fox opens his senses to be sure there is no one within earshot, and then he strokes a firm line down Dick's back and turns enough that he can whisper in Dick's ear.

"Dick," Bruce says, and holds on tighter against Dick's stiffening, his urge to pull away -- "Not yet, Dick." 

"What. What -- no," Dick says, and drops his voice to a whisper. "Why didn't you *see*?" 

Bruce doesn't allow himself the shudder, but can do nothing about the wince. "I was watching -- the wrong things." 

"Why didn't you -- you..." 

"I will never be able to --" No, he can't hold back the shudder. "Dick. I will do everything in my power --" 

"They're *dead* and I didn't finish my homework and I didn't hug them and I didn't tell them --" 

"They knew you loved them --" 

"Please please please *fix* it!" 

Bruce holds Dick tighter still. "You must tell me everything you remember, everything you can *guess* --" 

Dick sobs and begins to weep again, but this time there are words scattered through. 

Words like "threats," and "protection," and "money," and how there was never enough of it to pay everyone the right wage, and how they took turns being shorted -- 

It's clear enough. It -- 

Gradually, the weeping subsides to intermittent sobs and shivering. 

Bruce holds on. 

He -- holds on. 

After a time, there's a hand on his shoulder, and the scent of cigars and Boatman cologne tells him it's Jim. 

Bruce squeezes Dick a little more firmly. "I must begin, Dick -- but I won't let a day pass without letting you know --" 

"Fox, take me *with* you!" 

I want to. God *knows*, I want to -- 

But we can't... yet. 

Yeah. I like the sound of that. 

Bruce nods internally and kisses Dick's forehead before pulling back. "You will know everything when I know it, Dick. You... if you allow it, I will make sure you never want for anything." 

Jim grunts behind him -- 

And Dick stares at him with eyes full of wonder and confusion, pain and fear, shock and *horror* -- and he reaches out to touch Fox's mustache with shaking fingers. 

"Will you let me come to you, Dick?" 

Dick shudders and nods, more slowly and solemnly than he ever *should* -- 

Bruce swallows and nods back, pulling on the Fox by main force before lifting Dick into his arms and carrying him to what certainly seems to be the strong-man. 

His shirt smells like tears. His -- 

The bodies aren't visible behind the concentric walls of circus people and police personnel, but the *stink* -- 

The Fox shakes his head once -- 

And Jim moves up next to him. "The news is out. Harvey's gonna be looking for -- correction. Harvey's scared *shitless* about his brother." 

"I'm telling him tonight," Fox says, and rolls his head on his neck. "First things first --" 

"Protection." 

"That's what Dick said. Do we know which crew yet?" 

"Not even remotely. Haly says this happens in damned near every major city they stop in. This time, the money just wasn't there." 

"I." Bruce swallows. "I was going to *buy* --" 

"*Fox*." 

The Fox growls himself back to something *like* himself. "I'm listening. Take me to Haly -- I'm better and faster than the sketch artists." 

Jim nods and they go, finding Haly in a double-wide trailer with the words 'Chief Cook and Bottle-Washer' spelled out in ornate lettering. He had watched Dick play tag with a raggedly cheerful group of children from behind it. They -- 

No. Not yet. 

The interior is warm, bright, and cluttered with books and papers, with a general air of everything being moments away from falling on Haly's head.

Jim chases the uniforms taking his statement out, rips a blank page out of Haly's old-fashioned ledger, hands the page *and* the ledger to Fox, and points at Haly. "Describe him. Every mole. Every hair. Every piece of spinach in his teeth." 

To Haly's credit, he only blinks at Fox for a moment before beginning. 

In forty-five minutes, the Fox has a sketch of an olive-skinned man with thick, black hair, incongruously delicate eyebrows, a nose which has been broken at least once, thickly sensual lips, long sideburns, and a mole high on his faintly sloping forehead. He'd introduced himself as 'Tony.' 

He *is* familiar, but only in that deceptive way -- the part of him which is Bruce always feels close to his sketch subjects. The Fox memorizes as much of the image as he can and hands it to Jim, who hands it to a uniform to cart it to the nearest copy machine. 

The Fox spends the next *twenty* minutes interrogating Haly with Jim about everyone who's braced him for money in Gotham, but the names given are all of people the Fox had helped put away. There *is* the new detail that Tony's accent had been pure dockside -- Haly does great impressions -- but -- 

This -- 

A new gang?

An old gang with a new focus? 

Out-of-towners? 

The last is unlikely as hell, considering just how Gotham tends to treat the vast majority of gangs who try to move in *without* coming in force -- but if there's anything the past few years have taught him, 'unlikely' is just another way to say 'entirely damned possible.'

The uniform comes back with a relatively *small* stack of photocopies -- and explains that she'd started distributing them to the small army of police wandering the grounds and questioning everyone who either hadn't gotten away fast enough or who were morbid enough to stay. That -- 

"Good initiative, Montoya," Jim says, and nods once. "Give fifteen of those to the Fox and then follow me." 

The Fox *focuses* on looking her over, sparing a moment to slap himself around a little for not doing so before. Montoya turns out to be a dark-skinned -- Dominican? -- Latina with a strong jaw and hard, bright eyes. She wears no makeup, and her hair is pulled into a simple ponytail. And, when she moves, it's immediately clear that she had -- at the *very* least -- excelled at the hand-to-hand combat courses given at the Academy. 

The Fox bows with a fraction of his usual flourish --

And Montoya makes a show of studying him hard -- all without even remotely pretending that she hadn't already done so when he *wasn't* paying attention. 

A part of the Fox would love to flirt just a *little*. 

Most of the Fox knows it would be pointless -- on top of inappropriate. He -- 

He's not built for times like this. 

He's not -- 

Fox, I'm here. 

Yeah. Yeah, brother, I -- I can do this, and the Fox takes the sheets, tucks them away, and salutes Jim before taking off out of the trailer at speed. 

*Every* part of him wants to stop and make more promises to Dick, wants to hold and *comfort* --

But Bruce will be able to do that tomorrow. 

Nothing will keep me. Nothing -- nothing could. 

And that's exactly as it should be. He finds Alfred in a shadowy copse a mile north-northeast from where he'd left them, as per protocol. 

They go.


	22. Chapter 22

The docks are infuriatingly quiet by the time he gets there on his bike. Rumors about White's arrest had spread *exactly* as fast as they should have, and not even all the careful intel spread about pedophile rings and Federal *stings* has been enough to keep all the local scum from getting cautious. 

*Too* cautious. 

There aren't enough people on the *street* -- 

I believe you should make that their problem, Fox. 

*I* believe you've been spending too much time with me, Brucie -- and you know how I feel about too much. 

I believe you've mentioned something about it being 'just enough.' 

The Fox shows his teeth as he accelerates -- 

As he flips down the visor -- 

As he jumps the bike through the plate glass window of a Fiorelli social club. 

Shouts --

Curses -- 

But there's more than enough time to do a *controlled* ditch and start flipping towards the back room before the guns come out and it's *necessary* to create a little -- more -- chaos.

In the form of crossfire -- 

And flying plates of pasta -- 

And, of course, more rapidly splintering furniture than you can shake a stick at.

One enterprising individual pulls out an *Uzi*, though, and as much as the Fox *wants* the man to perforate his business associates -- 

It's time to get a little serious. 

Two knives for Uzi-man's hands. 

A chair leg for two of his associates' guns. 

One more knife for the leg of the man crawling for the exit, and then the Fox sets about immobilizing everyone in sight. And then he leaps up onto the one table still upright and whole. 

"Gentlemen --" 

"Fuck *you*!"

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "Laaadies...? You know *I'd* never judge..." 

None of them are close enough for the spittle to reach. 

"Ladies, *ladies*. I have an *important* proposal for you tonight --" 

More curses -- 

Shouts -- 

Impressively agile pelvic thrusts -- 

Fox. We don't -- 

Have time for this. I know. Fox pulls a firebomb out of his pocket and whistles, sharp and loud. "Any of you boys know what this little number is?" 

"Sure! It's where you keep your balls!" 

Raucous laughter, and -- 

A part of the Fox is honestly -- hungrily -- thrilled for it. 

And even more thrilled when he tosses the bomb against the door of the kitchen and it blows just the way it should. 

"Shit --" 

"Fuck fuck fuck --" 

"Pop quiz, ladies! What happens if I don't let you out of here before *that*," and he points at the spreading flames, "gets *serious*? Being as you fellas smoke too much to keep those sprinklers up to code." 

Silence. 

Stares. 

The Fox smiles again. And pulls another bomb. "I'll be honest, ladies. I'm not in the *friendliest* possible --" 

"What the fuck do you *want*?" 

"I'm *so* glad you *asked*," and the Fox pulls the image of Tony out of his belt and turns in a slow circle so that *everyone* can get a *good* look. 

The expressions are stony for a long moment, but when he starts bouncing the other firebomb in his *hand*... 

"He's not ours, you fucking faggot!" 

"Gino, shut --" 

"*You* can't see the fucking counter *melting* from where you are, Mikey, so shut the fuck up!" 

Silence. 

The Fox cocks his head to the side and waits. 

And waits. 

And gets a little fancy with how he's tossing the other firebomb -- 

They're sweating now. It doesn't have *much* to do with the heat -- 

"You're not getting anything else out of us, freak!" 

The Fox *fumbles* the firebomb -- 

"Thorne! He works for Thorne, I think! He could be a nephew!" That from the youngest guy in here. A teenager with a chicken neck and pretty eyes that roll like a horse's. And -- 

Yes. The Fox licks his teeth. "What's your name, baby boy." 

"Ch-Charlie --" 

"*Wonderful* to meet you, Ch-Ch-Charlie. *You* just won a trip out of here on your own two feet," the Fox says, leaping down and cutting Charlie free before grabbing him by that skinny little neck and lifting him off the floor -- 

"*Fuck* -- you said --" 

"Your boys aren't your boys anymore, Ch-Ch-Charlie. At the *very* least, they're gonna beat you like a step-headed red child for what you gave me tonight... unless you can get the hell out of town before they recover from what I'm about to do to them --" 

And the voices start up again, curses and protests just as if they think he has *any* reason to play fair. 

You usually do, Fox. 

*Not* tonight -- 

You'll get no argument from me. We must -- we must. 

The Fox tightens his grip on Charlie's neck and lifts him higher. "Do you *get* me, little boy?" 

He nods like he's having a seizure. Good enough. The Fox tosses him in the vague direction of the door, and then begins the process of *kicking* the others out of it. 

When he's done, all four of them are groaning and spitting blood on the sidewalk. 

The sirens say the Fire Department is on the way. 

He kicks the one named Gino onto his back. "Next time, don't make me *wait*," he says, and pats the man's cheek firmly enough to make his teeth rattle a little. He knows -- 

He knows where he's going next. 

As far as the media is concerned, Rupert Thorne is a hard-nosed businessman with a successful company and an air of *admirable* ruthlessness. Sure, sometimes there are cut corners and tax 'mistakes' and all those other little things, but isn't that the price of doing business in late twentieth century America?

The truth is -- 

The *truth* is that the Fox had never felt particularly moved to insult Kent for never being able to bring Lex down -- for more than one reason. Lex had either learned all he ever needed to know about the use -- and abuse -- of cut-outs from people like Thorne -- 

And his father. 

Yes, Bruce, and his *father*. He'd either learned it all like the brilliant and *scary* student he'd always been --

Or he'd simply known it all already... like the brilliant and frightening *man* he's always been. 

The Fox frowns and kicks his bike up another fifteen kilometers per hour. I can't tell if you miss him or are angry with him. 

Neither can I. I... 

And the Fox gets it. You're wondering how many dead parents Lex is indirectly responsible for. 

Somehow... somehow this brings it home the way nothing else could. 

And the fact that you *needed* something like this to bring it all home is making you feel guilty. 

Of course -- 

Don't feel guilty, Brucie. 

But -- 

Don't. Feel. Guilty. You can't take responsibility for *anything* he's done. Not even the good things. 

Fox -- 

*And* you can't -- ever -- hate yourself just for loving someone. Love isn't a *choice*, Bruce. 

Perhaps -- perhaps not for *you* -- 

So you wanted to fall in love with your mother, a supervillain, *and* a thirteen-year-old boy? 

We're not -- we haven't -- 

We are and we have. *Cope*. 

Fox, are you angry with me?

I'm angry. I'm. I'm not what he *needs* right now -- 

He asked to *join* us -- 

He can't -- the Fox growls and forces himself not to shake his head, not to squeeze his eyes shut, not to take the bike up to speeds that leave *fast* behind for *suicidal* --

Oh, Fox... 

We can't waste time, Bruce. 

Of course -- 

We can't waste time on *useless* emotion. Mom twisted us, but we love her more than we can care about that. Lex has done terrible things, but we love him more than we can care about *that*. Dick is thirteen years old, but we love him more than we can care about *that*. Those are just facts, Bruce. Facts that need to be accepted and then moved *on* from. 

And your guilt over not checking the ropes before the performance? Is that useless, as well? 

Oh, Bruce... no. It isn't. 

*Fox* -- 

I'll tell you why it isn't. It's real simple: Feeling like this, feeling this useless and ineffectual and *wrong*? Is making me *also* feel a lot more violent than usual. Which is something that will *absolutely* stand us in good stead once we stalk into Thorne's mansion. 

Oh. Oh, Fox -- 

He'll live. He might even keep all his teeth and his ability to walk without a cane. But he's gonna hurt, Brucie. And then he's gonna talk. 

We don't have *sanction* -- 

*Fuck* sanction. Dick is *ours*. 

We must not lose our *allies*, Fox!

The Fox growls and -- control. He has control. He -- 

We... you *know* ways to hurt him without... without damaging him -- 

I *want* to damage him -- 

We *both* do, but we must -- no. No, I -- *humiliate* him, Fox. Dance through his home in an -- an *orgy* of destruction and laughter. Hurt him, yes, but *frighten* him more. Fill him with doubt and fear -- 

*Blood* -- 

The blood... the blood will flow another time, Fox. Now... tonight we must be who we *are*.

The Fox shudders -- 

And Bruce strokes him deep within, firm and warm and soothing -- 

Maker... 

Brother. 

The Fox swallows. All right. We do this your -- 

"Fox, come in!" 

Dinah -- "Gorgeous, where are you?" 

"Oh, God, you don't even -- the way Fate explained it, we're kinda trapped in the wall between universes." 

Bruce blinks with the Fox's eyes. "There are *walls*?" 

"I don't know! Or -- I guess there's at least one, because we're *stuck*. Well, stuck for now. Fate's doing this thing where he's opening mystical channels of... something or other. We're all taking a moment to call people. How was the circus?" 

"Wonderful and terrible," Bruce says, helplessly. "There was a double-murder of a boy's parents. The acrobats I spoke of --" 

"Oh, no! You were supposed to have fun!" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I did... until then. I had met the boy and..." Bruce shakes his head. "I care for the boy a great deal. And I have... an excellent lead." 

Dinah snorts. "'Care for the boy'? Can I start calling you Clark?" 

The Fox growls -- 

But Bruce laughs. "Perhaps it wouldn't be... beyond the realm of... ah." 

"No way! *Fox*!" 

The Fox sighs and pulls himself forward again. "We're *going* to adopt him, gorgeous -- assuming he'll have us. But first? We're going to put a fist *partway* through Rupert Thorne's face." 

Fox -- 

I *said* partway. 

"-- God! You have *proof*? Against *Thorne*?" 

The Fox shows his teeth and turns onto the back roads leading into Bristol. "Not even a little. But all I want him to do is finger the scum who did this. I don't expect to get any further up the chain than a capo or two... but." 

"Ooh. Ooh. I wanna come!" 

"Gorgeous, there's nothing I'd enjoy more -- but." 

Dinah growls. "And it's not like I can *rush* Fate any, either. The last time I tried that he gave me The Stare Of A Thousand Worlds."

"That doesn't sound very *ginchy*." 

A snort. "It *isn't*. I thought I was gonna fall into *eternity*. I -- oop, gotta go, weird translucent rainbow demon things incoming." 

"Demon -- uh. Enjoy?" 

Dinah giggles. "I *plan* on it. Canary out!" 

Perhaps we can continue to wait to join a team. 

The Fox snorts and does his best to make the bike annoy *every* one of his parents' neighbors. 

Fox. 

Are you *complaining*? 

No. But I've been enjoying scolding you. 

Dinah -- she's good for us.

Intensely so. 

Maybe -- maybe we can pretend she's right there with us. 

Will that help?

Yeah. Yeah, it will. 

All right. 

And -- there. 

Omphalos is what happens when *way* too much damned dirty money meets Greek Revival. The mansion sprawls out in all dimensions, squatting like a toad over beautifully landscaped grounds. 

Beautiful until you think about all the trees he'd cut down *just* to make the mid-Atlantic look more like the Mediterranean. 

Alfred had been *deeply* offended -- 

I believe he still is, Fox. 

Well, then, let's do this for Alfie, and the Fox turns off the roads and onto the grounds, using the bike to turn all the landscaping to churned muck. 

It's tempting to jump the bike through the big bay window right *there*, but Thorne is standing there fuming in all his bloated glory -- and the Fox already knows he can't move as quickly as Annie. 

He's gonna be *good*, after all, so all he does is slap a charge on the window and mime 'explosion' until Thorne's eyes go wide and he *does* run. 

He'd set the charge for ninety seconds and it's a weak one, so all *he* has to do is duck around a column -- 

KERRRISH

There. 

The Fox jogs, leaps in through the *much* more exciting window, and follows the sound of Thorne snarling until five dark-suited men with guns drawn come thundering in after him. 

"Sorry, boys. I simply *don't* have *any* free time," and the Fox pulls his rebreather and his sleeping gas pellets in one move. In and *down* -- 

The formula is quick-acting *and* opaque. A little bob and weave action means that the two shots that *do* get off both go wild -- 

And the boys are all down and snoring. 

The Fox walks through the dissipating cloud toward the snarling -- 

"-- don't *understand* me, Torn! That fairy is here *right now*! In my *home*!" 

And -- 

"I don't *know* what's happening! I heard gunshots --" 

And -- 

"What do you *mean* you need twenty minutes?! I *own* you, you jumped-up flatfoot!" 

And -- 

"I want him *arrested* -- Torn? *Torn*! Did you just hang *up* on --" 

"He *really* didn't," the Fox says, popping out the rebreather and spinning the cut phone cord like a lasso before whipping Thorne across the face with it. 

"*Gah* --" 

The cut it opens is small. It *probably* won't even scar... 

"Toomey! Gerard! Edwards! Get *in* here!" 

The Fox grins. "Rupie, Rupie, *Rupie* -- may I call you Rupie?" 

Thorne dabs at his face with a handkerchief -- "Blood! Damn you! Get *out*!" 

"Afraid I can't *do* that, Rupie. I mean, your guards are all *napping*, and I wouldn't want to leave you *lonely*." 

Thorne recoils. "I'm a private citizen, *Fox*. You just committed *another* felony --" 

"And the police are on their way, yeah, I *know*. But it'll take the ones *you* own just a little while to get *down* here. And -- did you want to explain that ownership dealie-o, Rupie...? Maybe break it down for me in nice *small* words...?"

Thorne's glare bears an *unfortunate* resemblance to that of a rabid *pig* -- 

*Can* pigs develop rabies, Fox? 

It's a *metaphor*, Brucie, *work* with me. 

Hm. 

The Fox sighs. "I suppose not. We can take that up another time," and the Fox whips at a few things around the room just to make Thorne flinch -- 

And relax -- 

And *flinch* -- 

"Every *second* you're here you get closer to signing your death warrant, Fox." 

The Fox makes a moue. "Rupie, don't be *cruel*. I mean, I'm not even here for *you*. Not *really*. Though..." The Fox bats his lashes. "I *could* be." 

Thorne flinches *just* right -- 

The Fox twiddles his fingers -- 

"Oh, what *is* it?" 

"Well. *Well* --" 

And the Fox puts on a *burst* of speed, sprinting across the room and sweeping Thorne *right* off his oh-so-*fashionably*-shod *trotters* -- 

I believe that would offend Annie, Fox. 

Hunh -- okay, we'll work on that. For now... and the Fox kicks Thorne onto his back and straddles his hips, pinning his wrists with one hand and using the other to dance a blade in front of his eyes. "Do I have your *attention*, Rupie?" 

Thorne snarls and *struggles* -- 

So Fox lengthens the cut on his cheek until he screams. Loudly. "As you can guess... that *wasn't* the right answer."

"What do you *want*?" 

"To be honest? I *want* to beat you to within a *centimeter* of your *useless* little life... but I can compromise," the Fox says, and grinds just a *little*... 

Thorne looks *sick* -- 

"This can stop *any* time, Rupie..." 

"Tell me what you want!" 

"Tony," the Fox says, and raises his eyebrows hopefully. 

"I employ eighteen thousand people in the tri-state area, you mincing freak! Do you want to guess how *many* of them are named Tony?" 

Oh, Fox, I remember pictures of --

Yeah. "How many of them look like your ex-wife on steroids, Rupie...?" 

And Thorne looks more surprised than anything else... at least until the calculation comes over his features. "How badly do you want him, Fox? Maybe -- *maybe* -- we can make a deal." 

The Fox smiles around the bile in his mouth. "I *like* deals, Rupie. They get me *frisky* inside." 

Thorne *shudders* -- 

"Oh, don't be like *that*, Rupie, I --" And the Fox drops and tosses at once, getting far enough under the gunshot that it only *grazes* his arm and -- nailing the *sixth* guard to the wall with a knife while his gun clatters across the floor. "Just a sec, Rupie." 

The Fox rolls to his feet for long enough to punch the man into painful unconsciousness, and then turns to find Thorne crawling for the gun. 

The Fox sighs and shakes his head. "Just for that, you won *two* kicks to the jewels, Rupie. I *was* going to let you get away with just *one*, but..." He scoops the gun up and tosses the clip out the window. "Mean daddies don't get *any* treats." 

"He's my *nephew*!" 

"Rupie, bubbie, I already *knew* that," and the Fox quick-steps in and kicks -- relatively gently -- *just* before Thorne can get his hands in position to protect himself. "Tell me something I *don't* know." 

Mostly, right now, he's getting a lot of groans -- 

And whimpers -- 

And pained tears -- 

The Fox makes a face. "Ready to deal, Rupie...?" 

"*Fuck* you!" 

"You do *realize* that my next kick will break your hands, *too*, don't you...?" 

Thorne looks *green* -- and then spits up a thin and bilious stream of *mostly* saliva. 

The Fox sucks his teeth. "Icky *poo* --" 

"I kicked him out of here an hour ago. I -- he *told* me what he did -- didn't think you people would figure it out so --" Thorne groans and sits up -- 

Pales under the skin -- presumably when his swollen sac complains -- 

And falls *right* back down. "*Fuck* -- he's gone. He's in the *wind*. I told him -- told him I wouldn't back him up, that he'd finally fucked up too much --" 

"Where." 

"He's *gone* --" 

"Rupie," Fox says, and rests his foot on Thorne's crotch. "Don't test me tonight." 

The snarl of a cornered *animal* -- 

The Fox increases the pressure just a *little* -- 

"Zucco! His last name is Zucco. He's Lucille's low-life brother's kid. I paid for an apartment for him down on Second -- near the docks! I told him to take the first train *anywhere else* --" 

"How much money did you give him, hmm...?" 

"Ten thousand. All I had -- *nnh* --" 

The grunt spirals up into a yell as he presses down with his foot -- 

Into a *scream* -- 

And the Dinah in his mind gives him a worried look -- 

And the *Bruce* in his mind is a manipulative asshole, sometimes, but his point is made. The Fox moves his foot, blows Rupie a kiss that he probably can't see through all the tears, knocks him out so he won't be able to tell the incoming cops anything, and runs for it. 

You did *say* you'd pretend Dinah was with us. 

I know, I know -- 

But seeing the man's face affected you more than you expected it would? Or... hearing his voice? 

A part of me didn't -- didn't -- 

Ah. You didn't want to believe that it had truly been that much of a mistake not to focus on Thorne's empire over the past three years. 

Yeah. I -- yeah. 

It wasn't a mistake. 

Bruce -- 

We are -- as you point out rather often -- only one man. 

The Fox scowls and leaps onto the bike, tearing out at speed -- and tearing up more landscaping. 

Fox. There were *other* supervillains out -- 

Tell that to Dick, and -- the Fox can feel Bruce wincing for that, feel him -- 

We. We can never apologize enough. 

There *is* no enough -- 

No, there is not. But Fox... we must believe that Dick will forgive us someday. We must not succumb to *despair*. 

The Fox glares -- no. We're not -- we're not ever gonna be *worthy* of him -- 

We will rise. We will -- we will become *better*. 

I -- Brucie, I *need* him -- 

His smiles. He must *smile* again -- 

And -- if we adopt him -- 

We will give him everything he needs. The best care. The best of *everything* -- 

We'll make everyone else understand. *Somehow* -- 

And -- we will never offer abuse. 

Never. Not ever. We'll make sure he's never bored, or lonely, or -- any of that. 

We will... teach him? 

The Fox shivers, clutching the handlebars -- and filling his mind with the image of Dick tumbling off the side of roof -- 

The image of Dick using his amazing flexibility to kick -- 

To spin -- 

To *dance* -- and to dance with knives. 

Fox... 

He asked to come *with* us! 

He doesn't -- he doesn't truly know, or understand -- 

We'll give him that *option*, Brucie. We -- we'll offer him silk. And armor. 

Bruce shivers within him, and -- 

The Fox knows. He *gets* it. He -- you're thinking of long nights by the fire and Mom's *books* -- 

Not only that -- 

You're thinking of long conversations and holding him close and answering every question he can *think* of. 

Do you find that *offensive*? 

I find it -- he's gonna need more than that. 

Of course -- 

I -- have to. I have to *give* him something, something to -- 

We can never make up. We can never -- 

The Fox growls helplessly and stitches the bike back into incoming Gotham traffic, wanting to be at the docks now, now, *now* -- 

Oh, Fox... 

I *need* him, Brucie!

Yes. Yes. And -- we cannot make up. But we can -- and will -- make *right*. I will never try to keep him from you -- 

No, I know, I *know* -- God, fuck, I don't know what I'm *saying* anymore -- 

And Bruce strokes him, then, and pushes -- not forward. There's warmth all along the Fox's back and his abdomen and the outsides of his thighs. And -- 

The Fox laughs helplessly. Brucie. 

Hm. I believe I can feel myself dangling over the back of the bike. 

That's because it's not *big* enough for both of us!

I also can't help wondering what this sort of thing says about our imagination. 

Oh -- shut up and hug me. 

As you say. 

The Fox calls in Zucco's name to Alfred and gets an exact address -- and a list of petty crimes, all done three years ago or more. He calls *that* in to Jim's office, and in less than five minutes the APB is blaring through the scanner. Still -- Zucco's had over an hour, and the officers close enough to his apartment to make a difference are all suspect. 

He's -- 

Zucco's in the wind. The Fox knows that before he's even halfway *there*, but he still has to -- something. When he gets there, he turns over the man's apartment looking for a sign, yanking clothes out of the closet full of ugly, tasteless suits, flipping through papers on the desk, knocking for hidden compartments -- 

Any clue. 

Any clue, at *all*. 

The man's car is gone. 

There's an empty space in the closet where a single, large suitcase could have been stored. 

*Some* underwear and socks are gone -- 

And there's no sign where. 

And even with the sketch *and* the man's old mug shots on the street... 

Do it, Fox. 

Yeah. I -- yeah. 

The Fox walks past the handful of uniforms searching for things in his wake, taking note of the faces which were already on Montoya's list and promising later, promising a *reckoning*. For now... 

He throws open the window. "Superman. I need your help," the Fox says, clear and sharp and *loud*. 

A few of the uniforms turn to stare at him -- and one of them actually trips over his own feet when Kent climbs through the window twenty seconds later. 

The Fox ignores him and inclines his head. "Thank you for coming. I need --" 

Kent holds up a hand. "I've been... monitoring." 

For how long...? But that's a question for another time. "Then you know who -- and what -- we're looking for." 

For a moment, Kent's expression is darkly unreadable -- 

And then hungry -- 

And then, simply, Superman's professional mask. "If you would give me a closer look --" 

Bruce hands over his last undamaged sketch -- which, at this point, is better than the mug shot. 

Kent looks it over in much the same way as a speed-reader would take in a block of text. He lingers on the eyebrows, the mole, and the mouth -- and then the sheet is back in the Fox's hands and Kent is gone without another word. 

I want to go back to the circus. 

Not until -- 

Zucco is in custody, yes, Fox. Anything else would be inappropriate. 

Not that we know *anything* about that -- 

What price will Kent exact for this, do you think? 

It doesn't matter, Brucie. We'll pay it. Every red cent -- 

"Is *that* how you 'catch' all the bad guys, Fox?" 

Angry, ugly laughter follows that little comment, and the Fox wonders, for a moment, just which of these men's compatriots Torn had sent out to Omphalos. Not that it matters -- they all know who pays for their little extras. They all... 

How many of them would've let Zucco go, just for a little extra cash -- or a favor to cash in with Thorne later? 

How many -- 

"Hey, freak, I'm talkin' to you!"

"Yeah, asshole. The Commissioner might like you, but you're just another fucking crook as far as *we're* concerned," and that voice... 

There was a tremor, Fox. 

Uh, huh. The Fox turns to take in the crowd of uniforms who aren't even paying lip service to the idea of searching for clues, anymore. Most of them are *just* sneering and chesting up a little, but the red-haired, brown-eyed, and *big* one in the middle is *sweating* and sneering. It could be nothing... 

But it isn't. 

The Fox smiles. "What's *your* name, princess?" 

"Who the fuck are you --" 

"Not *you*, honey bunches," the Fox says, and points. "Him. The lovely hunk of ginger *justice* meat right in the middle."

*His* sneer get deeper, but -- 

"Gonna tell 'im, Riley? You might get a date out of it!" 

The laughter turns much more *raucous*. The Fox can work with that. He flips his lenses and bats his lashes. "*Riley*, hmm...? You got a first name, big boy? Maybe a phone number...?" 

"Get -- get bent!" 

And *that* quaver... was enough to make some of the others notice. There are frowns showing on a couple of the faces now, a hint of suspicion...

How much brotherhood can a precinct that dirty truly breed, Fox? 

Not all that much, I'm betting. The Fox grins. "I often do *just* that, Officer Rrrriley... but I'm more interested in what *you* were doing say... forty-five minutes ago...?" 

Riley gets just a little paler under the skin -- 

The others frown just a little *more* -- 

And the Fox brings a finger to his mouth and pulls his face into an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. "I wonder who *was* the first officer on-scene..." 

And now Riley is at the center of the kind of stares that could end a friendship -- assuming that there was any of that sort of thing to begin with. 

The Fox waves an airy hand. "Oh, well. I guess we'll *never* know," he says, and makes a point of staring directly into Riley's eyes. 

Rage, fear, frustration... and really, that's the *only* way a dirty cop should *ever* look -- 

And two of Riley's 'friends' hustle him out the door just that fast. The Fox waggles his fingers again and then dives out the window. If the Fifteenth implodes -- 

If he can *help* that happen --

I wonder how much money he took from Zucco. 

Two, three grand tops, Brucie. Riley doesn't have the sac to ask for more than that and actually *get* it. Not from a killer like Zucco. 

*Do* you think he'd killed before? 

He worked for Thorne. He *had* to prove himself in some way... or... no, you're right. Thorne isn't the most loyal guy in the world, but he was clearly fed up with Zucco. He was only brought in out of nepotism, which means... 

That Riley could've taken more money? 

Maybe as much as half, Brucie. And words can't *describe* how bad I wanna shove it down his lying, dirty throat. 

Unsanitary... and an excellent reason for us to be leaving. 

*Indeed*, the Fox says, and spins his bike into a gas station to top off the tank -- 

And Kent shows up with a terrified -- and urine-stained -- Zucco dangling from his fist just as the Fox is paying the stunned attendant.. "Did you have preferences about which sub-station to take him to, Fox...?" 

The Fox closes the attendant's fist around the cash and claps him on the back until he starts breathing again. 

The attendant -- a slight younger man with intriguingly *large* blond hair and hazel eyes -- stares back and forth between them, licks his soft, painted lips -- "I've had this fantasy. I -- um. Um. I'm gonna go now. You two just... go ahead and talk. About... justice. And tight pants. And -- yeah." 

Kent smiles with gentle distance at the man. 

The Fox slaps his ass and winks. 

The man makes an *interesting* sound with a lot of o's and jogs for the small convenience store attached to the station. 

The Fox turns back to Kent -- and subvocalizes. "This entire precinct is dirty and under investigation. Central, please."

Kent rears back -- and then nods and goes. 

The Fox rides until he can't smell the docks anymore, until he can't be tempted to go through the Fifteenth with fire and knives and the steel in his boots. 

The Fox rides until there's a flash of red just within his peripheral vision, and then he parks in an alley -- 

And lets Kent carry him to an appropriately shadowy rooftop. Kent sets him down on his feet, and then drops to the surface of the roof what looks like an *exact* one point five meters away. 

Politesse, and the Fox can damned well incline his head for it. And -- "Could you smell it on me, Kent? Before all this, I mean." 

Kent -- reaches out. For the Fox's *face*. But then he drops his hand. "I watched you when you were starting out, Wayne. I watched for your mistakes, for proof that this -- all of this -- would be possible even for someone like me." Kent shakes his head. "You made so few. I... no. I never knew you could love a boy." 

The Fox squeezes his eyes shut. 

"It is love, isn't it...?"

That -- it's not a real question, tonal shift or not. He doesn't have to answer.

"That... I saw the way you held him. I saw the way you held yourself back." 

"What --" He can't. He can't -- 

Fox... 

He *can't*. "Tell me -- tell me about Central."

"The Commissioner sent your brother to your home to wait for you. He is... your brother seems quite worried." 

The Fox scrubs a hand over his face, comforted, a little, by the rasp of stubble. "He's a protective man. He... took care of me for a good, long while." 

Kent searches him for a long moment -- "They know that you were the one to give me the tools I needed to find him --" 

The Fox holds up a hand. "Easy, Kent. I don't need credit." 

"What do you need?" And Kent's voice is soft -- but hungry again. 

That -- 

Bruce pushes forward and steps closer. "Sometimes... sometimes, when you look at me, I can't help but feel as though there are things you wish to say to me which aren't in Superman's -- or Kal-El's -- vocabulary." 

Kent shudders. "It was that I proved myself perverse and... low. Yes?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Do you truly believe that?" 

Kent smiles ruefully, gently... "I believe in love, and in the many acts which can be performed to make it." 

Even with teenagers, Brucie. Even -- 

Is this what we will become? 

I don't know. I don't -- 

"Wayne... will you make love to him?" 

"I don't. His grief is -- fresh. Raw. I will not abuse, or -- take advantage." 

Kent's smile gets softer, and he nods. 

"Will you... go to him." 

Kent takes a sharp breath -- "I had not planned on it." 

Bruce frowns. "Why not?" 

"He is beautiful, Wayne. He is... incredible. But I am not in love with him... and you are." 

The Fox snarls within him, and Bruce can't keep himself from closing his hands into fists. He -- "You're telling me you would stand aside." 

Kent searches him again, frowns -- "That... angers you?" 

*Yes* -- 

No, Fox, not truly. Bruce takes a deep breath and opens his hands. "I am angered by my own lack of control. And by my ignorance of myself. And by my... complicity." 

"I..." Kent smiles wryly. "Blaming oneself for things seems to be an... occupational hazard." 

"Hm. *Are* we admitting that we share a profession?" 

Kent raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps a vocation. Perhaps..." Kent reaches out again, and this time brushes the place on the Fox's shirt which is stiff from the salt of Dick's tears. 

Bruce fights back a shiver -- 

And Kent flares his nostrils. He -- 

"Kent --" 

"Would you. I knew who the Fox was from nearly the beginning. I could hear your *heartbeat*, Wayne, and I *followed* it. And I watched you with your brother and his fiancée and your parents... you can be so *kind*," Kent says, and pinches the salt-stiffened silk between his fingers. "You're kind more often than you're *not*." 

Bruce frowns. "I -- try to be." 

"I wanted." Abruptly Kent is holding Bruce's shirt in his *fist*. He hasn't ripped any of the buttons, but it's a near thing. And -- 

It's not anger. "Tell me what you wanted." 

Kent's frown seems almost *anguished* -- but then his expression is blankly, blandly perfect... and he's one point five meters away again. 

"Kent --" 

"I believe Cain has either moved to a heavily industrial area, found ways to disguise his weaponry, or left the country entirely. I can't track him by scent. However, I've learned a great deal of both Mandarin and Cantonese over the past few days, and people have been willing to answer my questions. I *will* find them." 

*Bruce*, watch it -- 

Bruce straightens the Fox's clothes. "The Fox is trying to warn me against you." 

"Are you truly so -- splintered?" 

Bruce nods once. 

The bland mask shifts to something pained and *worried* -- 

"I am broken, but I will not injure anyone else with... the shards of myself." 

"I didn't think you *would* -- I. Is there anything else, Wayne?" 

"Kent... this conversation isn't finished." 

Kent *laughs* then, but the pain is shot through it -- 

The Fox growls. "*Talk* to me, Kent!"

And Kent rears back -- and shakes his head. "No, I... not to you. I'm sorry. For many things. Some -- some of them are even my fault in a way a *reputable* psychologist would agree with --" Kent shakes his head again. "*Is* there anything else?" 

Bruce frowns with the Fox's mouth -- 

The Fox reaches out with Bruce's hand -- 

"Please, Wayne, I -- I must go." 

Bruce pushes forward and nods. "There is nothing. Thank you for all of your help." 

Kent shudders once, all over, and flies away at speed. 

What. The. *Fuck* -- 

I believe you already know the answer to that question, Fox. 

The Fox is silent -- 

And silent -- 

I believe you're trying very hard to *not* know the answer to that question -- 

And only you're allowed to do that? 

Fox... please don't be angry with me. 

He *wants* us, all right? He -- he wanted to be our friend, and more than that, and then we shut him down as *meanly* as possible -- 

He couldn't -- he couldn't possibly have expected we would *allow* him to prey on young boys. Or -- join him in doing so? 

Assuming he *was* preying -- argh. He didn't *see* it on us, Brucie. He -- he's been mad at us for years -- 

Because we ruined his fantasy of friendship with us. I see. 

Yeah. Fuck. 

We find him attractive. 

That's not -- 

Good enough, yes, I know, and Bruce drops into a crouch and strokes the salty place on his shirt. We find him beautiful. 

We *understand* his short-eyed ass. 

All too well. 

We could -- fuck, no, *no* one could keep him from fucking his way through the strolls in every *other* city in the country. In the *world*. The best *we* could do is keep him a little busier. 

And he would recognize our attempts to do that for what they were. 

It would fucking *hurt* him. 

We -- we don't want to do that anymore. 

Is that a question? 

Fox... Bruce shakes his head internally and steps into the space they share, finding the Fox caught in a swirling, shifting darkness with far too many colors. 

The *Fox* is still and steady, but nothing else is. 

The metaphor is entirely comprehensible -- 

I'm *not* doing this crap on purpose!

Bruce raises his hands and pushes gently, and -- hm. He reaches out to the world surrounding them and imagines it flat and still --

And the chaos becomes simply overexciting wallpaper. Bruce tears it down until the walls are the color of ferns through fog -- 

Oh, hey, I like that. 

I believe I do, too. If you would do the honors? 

The Fox frowns *blackly* -- but only for a moment before he offers a rueful smile... and a bed for them to sit on. 

Bruce sits down and holds the Fox's hand. We will always have each other, Fox. 

That -- don't jinx us. 

Fox -- 

Dinah is fighting translucent rainbow demons in the space between dimensions, Brucie. Superstition is *totally allowed*. 

Hm. 

I'm right. 

I... suppose. 

The Fox reaches across his own body to smack Bruce lightly with his free hand. No jinxing us. Nothing lasts forever.

Fox -- 

We -- we'll last as long as we can. I'll keep us, and *you'll* keep us, and *Lex* will keep us, and *Dinah* will keep us -- 

And Dick? How will he feel about us? 

Well. We're certainly not gonna *bore* him. 

Bruce laughs softly. Yes, I believe you're correct about that. 

I *absolutely* am, Brucie, and the Fox throws himself back on the bed. 

Bruce leans in and strokes, cups and squeezes muscle, bares the Fox's chest -- hm.

What? 

Your chest hair is a different pattern than mine. 

Are you serious? 

Bruce thinks about it -- he gestures, and they have a ceiling. With a mirror on it. 

Holy hell, Brucie, I look like *Dad*. When did *that* happen? 

I haven't the faintest clue, and Bruce strokes his way through it. He can't tell if the texture is the same as Father's or not -- 

Yeah, he only ever hugged you without a shirt on once -- 

And then he was wet from the pool, yes. It feels very nice, Fox. 

I'm still not comfortable wearing Dad like this. 

Then... and Bruce strokes purposefully and with *focus* -- until the pattern of hair is the same as his own. 

The Fox sighs and pulls him in for a kiss, rolling Bruce's body under his own for a long, warm -- 

It's a *hot* moment, because the Fox is heavy and strong, so *strong*. The Fox can move him easily, take him and hold him and *strip* him -- 

Just this, Brucie. Just this, and the Fox moves against him, silk on silk -- 

No, he's wearing *linen* for some reason -- 

I like you that way. 

*Mother* likes me this way -- 

She's got good taste, and the Fox licks Bruce's clean-shaven cheek, drags his own stubbled cheek against it -- 

Fox... 

Mine, just be mine -- 

*Brother* -- 

I wish. Sometimes I wish it *was* just the two of us. 

Bruce gasps. Fox? 

I do. And you do, too, or I *wouldn't*, and the Fox nips Bruce's lips, upper then lower, and then kneels up over him. Don't think about it. 

Fox -- 

It's not ever gonna happen, Brucie. We *can't* do it, because we're in love with people, and in like with *other* people, and also Lex would have us killed if we dumped him just to get into the world's *most* incestuous relationship. 

I -- hm. 

What? 

You don't think he'd have us killed if we broke up with him for other reasons? 

Nah. Well -- no. He'd have us killed if we broke up with him for *stupid* reasons. Like -- not wanting to be gay or something. That would definitely be worth a bullet to the head in Lex's book. 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. We'll just have to endeavor to be wise and judicious, then. 

Yeah. It's not like we wouldn't feel guilty forever if *we* made him backslide. 

Bruce strokes the Fox's broad, columnar thighs. You know, it's the strangest thing... 

The Fox smirks. You're thinking Kent's been having a relationship with us we just weren't invited to for a while, too. 

Well -- yes. 

Kinda makes you wonder who *else* has been doing that. 

They both take a moment to gaze yearnfully at memories of Jim -- 

And then the Fox sighs and gets up off the bed. Time to rock and roll. 

We should be going home to Harvey -- 

We are. We're just not *ignoring* crime on our way there. Let's hit it. 

They do.


	23. Chapter 23

The question of how to do this -- 

How to sneak into his own home again -- 

No, there is no question. Harvey is here.

Harvey is *waiting* for him --

Bruce must be as open as possible. 

He moves up from the private areas of the underground garage and then directly into the study, where Harvey is pacing by the darkened fireplace -- "Finally, where the fuck -- *whoa*, what the hell are you doing -- here." And Harvey stares at him hard, taking in the Fox's trappings -- and Bruce's everything else. 

Bruce nods once. 

"No. No fucking way. Take -- take that *costume* *off*, Bruce!" 

"It's more than a costume, Harv. And sometimes less," Bruce says, and sprays the solvent on the Fox's mustache and sideburns, peeling them off and setting them aside. He pulls off the scarf and the light, flexible cap, too. 

"Bruce. Bruce, you." Harvey shakes his head. "I'm not seeing this. I'm not *seeing* this!" 

Bruce thinks and -- tries. "I saw. I saw two people die tonight, Harv. They fell. They -- they *bounced* when they hit the ground --" 

"Jesus, yeah, that'd fuck *anyone* up --" 

"Wait. Please?" 

Harvey frowns and nods -- he's gripping the mantelpiece very. Very firmly. 

Bruce nods back, and starts opening his shirt -- no. He removes the gloves first and flexes his hands. "The Graysons weren't the first people I've seen die. Nor was their death the most gruesome," and Bruce unbuttons the shirt as quickly as he can. "The first was a young man named Jin. He and I were students in a dojo outside of Uchinaa --" 

"What -- what are you *talking* about?" 

"Please." 

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut and seems to be counting. His face has a dark flush -- 

Bruce thinks he can *feel* Harvey's heart pounding -- "Please." 

"I'm *listening*." 

"Another student -- a highly-skilled one -- beat Jin to death because of a perceived insult to his masculinity. I was fast enough to catch Jin's dying breaths, but not to actually help. The other student..." Bruce smiles ruefully and shrugs the shirt off, letting it fall. He starts on the armor. "I strongly suspect I'll meet the other student again someday. I hope I will be skilled enough to face him effectively -- or that I'll be intelligent enough to call for help if I am not. I..." Bruce shakes his head and drops the armor, and then pulls off the t-shirt he wears beneath it. 

"You -- you're seriously wearing a dozen different knives." 

"Every night, I start with twenty-two," Bruce says, and steps into better light -- 

"Scars. You -- *Bruce*! What the hell have you *done* to yourself?" 

"This," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I think you can see why I always beg off on trips to the beach --" 

"Don't -- don't fucking *joke*, Bruce! You." Harveys swallows convulsively. "You've been lying to me." 

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut -- 

"*Say* it!" 

"Yes, Harv. I... for a very long time --" And Bruce is too shocked to let Harvey's punch land, but he manages to block it lightly. He -- 

Harvey *blanches* -- 

"Harv --" 

"Jesus. Jesus, I just tried to *hit* you -- oh, God. No, no, no," and Harvey stumbles back and *away* -- 

"Harv, it's all --" 

"It's not all *right*! You've been lying to me -- to our *parents*. You -- wait. Does *Mom* know?" 

Bruce frowns. "Of course not, Harv --" 

Harvey stares at him. Just -- stares. 

"Or. I've never told her. I've never -- I don't plan to tell her." 

Harvey is still staring. He -- 

"Harv --" 

"I tried to hit you," Harvey says, and his voice is low and *thick* -- 

"Oh, *Harv*," and Bruce steps close, *reaches* -- 

"*Don't*!" 

Bruce -- drops his hands. He tries -- he *wants* -- 

You know what this is. 

He -- he's remembering his biological father. But -- 

*That's* what violence means to *him*, Brucie. Take -- get rid of us. 

Yes, I -- for now. And Bruce goes back to removing the uniform, watching Harvey pace out of the corner of his eye and hurting -- 

Not as much as Harvey is. Not -- not ever as much. 

When he's down to his boxer briefs, he moves within range -- 

Harvey detours to the couch, sitting down and putting his face in his hands. 

Bruce moves to sit beside him -- 

And Harvey begins to shake. 

"Oh, Harv..." Bruce cups Harvey's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I knew... I always knew you would try to talk me out of this, even though you inspired -- so much." 

"Inspired --" Harvey blows out a breath and groans. "I tried to *hit* you --" 

"I deserved it --" 

"No! No, you do *not* say that! You don't *ever* say anything *like* that," Harvey says, looking up and pointing at him -- his eyes are wild and *frightened*. 

Bruce catches Harvey's hands in his own. "All right, Harv, I won't. But. I want you to know that *I* know how unfair this is to you, and -- oh, Harv, I never would've wanted to lie to you about *anything*." 

"But you -- this whole separate *life*. This whole separate -- person," and Harvey's expression turns thoughtful for a long moment. He -- 

Watch for it. 

Yes, Fox. "I... Harv. Years before I ever met you, I dreamed of being... better. Stronger and faster. Smarter and *wittier*. More skilled and more... more *exciting* --" 

"There's nothing *wrong* with you, Bruce!" 

"Except for the lies, Harv...?" Bruce shakes his head and squeezes Harvey's hands again. "When I met you... when I met you, the fantasies gained depth, and an entirely new vocabulary --" 

"The Fox -- the fucking *Fox* sounds like me and fucking *Lex* had a *love* child!" 

Bruce blinks -- 

And Harvey yanks his hands away. "And that guy. That fucking guy. Mom told me you're *dating* him --" 

"He... discovered my identity --" 

"He's *blackmailing* you? I'll kill him --" 

"*Harv*. No, I..." Bruce does his best to make a soothing motion. "He... made overtures. In the form of crafting weapons for the Fox. We spoke about many different things --" Bruce shakes his head. "That's beside the point --" 

"It is *not*!" 

"I *promise* I will tell you *everything*, Harv, but -- you must let me apologize --" 

"Wait, why the hell does the Fox need to build a kryptonite force field?" 

"Ah... hm." Bruce smiles ruefully. "Superman and I have spent a great deal of time... disagreeing. About... many, many things." 

Harvey stares at him.

"I -- we're getting better --" 

"Bruce. Bruce -- wait, do I *wanna* know why you've been disagreeing with *the world's greatest hero*?" 

"I -- hm. Almost certainly not? Suffice it to say that he gave the impression -- powerfully -- that he hated everything about the way the Fox went about his business, and I hated nearly everything about the way -- Kal-El went about his personal life." 

Harvey's frown is pained again. He covers his face with his hands -- 

He drops his hands and stands -- 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and *paces* again -- "I knew -- I thought I could see -- but only sometimes. Only." Harvey shakes his head and keeps pacing --

Bruce stands, as well, and just... stays as close as he can while Harvey moves. 

"You're not -- you've never been clumsy. Or -- anything like that."

"I've been very lucky with my body and my sense of spatial reasoning --" 

"Every last one of those scars on your body is someone who was *almost* as good as you. In *some* way." 

"To be fair, Harv, often it was just a matter of there being very *many* people who weren't even close to being as skilled as I am." 

Harvey stops and looks at him as if he'd punched him in the stomach. 

"That -- I suppose that didn't help." 

"No, it didn't -- wait a minute. Wait a goddamned *minute*!" 

"Yes, Harv?" 

"The Fox is *never* fucking *flustered*!" 

"Not lately, no --" 

"So why are *you*? Or -- is that. Is that another lie?" 

"Oh -- no, Harv. It's just. It's just that... sometimes I'm not alone --" 

"Not. You talk about the Fox like he's a whole separate *person*." 

"Sometimes. Sometimes it seems very much like he is." 

And Harvey looks even *more* hurt -- 

"Harv, I... the split began happening long before we met, and -- and I'm working on it." 

"Are you?" 

*Lie* -- 

"*Yes*, Harv. I -- it's one thing for Lex to be sexually attracted to the psychologically *twisted* and something else entirely to be -- to be two people in one mind." 

"Two -- how does that even *work*, Bruce? The crooks who try that defense never actually *get* anywhere!"

"It's... rather a rare disorder --" 

"Wait, wait, why didn't you try to get yourself *help*? You -- you *know* we'd stand by you! All of us, and -- God, Bruce, I tried to *hit* --" 

Bruce can't. He -- 

He pulls Harvey close, tugging until he rests his head on Bruce's bare shoulder -- 

"Bruce, *Jesus* --" 

"You *mustn't* blame yourself --" 

"I have to. I -- it's not -- you don't strike *out* like that. You don't hurt your *family*. You don't --" 

"Lie about any number of things for several years?" 

Harvey chokes and pushes back against Bruce's hands -- 

"Harv --" 

"I'm not going *far*." 

Bruce loosens his grip -- 

"*God*, you're some kind of *monster* with the strength -- I always knew you could be -- Jesus, Bruce, *why*?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Because it always made sense to me, Harv. Because... Harv, I can't *remember* a time when I didn't want just *this* --" 

"But you *told* me --" Harvey sucks in a breath. "You told me you were never sure what you wanted to do with your life." 

Bruce nods. 

"How -- how can anyone lie like that for *fifteen years*? And -- Alfred knows. Who *else*?" 

"Jim --" 

"You told *Jim*?" 

"No, Harv. He figured it out when I couldn't help... acting like myself in front of him." 

Harvey looks *wounded* -- "And -- Lex figured it out, too." 

"He commissioned a psychological profile on me years ago. He... is obsessed with vigilantes, Harv. More so than even the image of himself he puts across. He looked at me, my travels, my build, and, again, my *profile*... well. He also discovered the identities of Superman, Black Canary, and Wildcat. Probably others, as well --" 

"That *asshole* -- *argh* --" And Harvey pushes off completely and goes back to the fireplace. "Who else." 

"Superman... outed me to Black Canary." 

"*He* knew your identity --" 

"He learned the sound of the Fox's heartbeat and followed him here --" 

"Do you know *his* identity? And -- Canary's." 

Bruce nods -- but Harvey isn't looking at him. "I've... made a somewhat obsessive study of the various superheroes. I know who most of them are." 

"Jesus. Jesus. When do you *sleep*?" And Harvey *does* look. 

Bruce tries a smile. "Usually while you're working to put away the men and women the Fox helps the police bring in." 

"And I just -- keep waking you up at nine o'clock in the damned *morning* -- don't let me do that!" 

"Harv, I *always* want to speak with you --" 

"No, you -- " Harvey sucks in a breath and pushes a hand back through his hair, mussing the wave -- "Did you. Why didn't you trust me, big guy? Just -- tell me that." 

"Oh, Harv..." 

"No, no, *tell* me. Did you think I couldn't keep the secret?" 

"When I was a teenager, I was afraid of you trying to talk me out of it. I never -- I've never wanted to argue with you." 

"*After* that, then --" 

"When I was traveling and learning..." Bruce shakes his head again. "You were so angry with me for not going to college --" 

"I was *angry* with you for *wasting* -- wasting your life. Fuck. *Fuck* -- and God, don't get on me about my language --" 

"I won't --" 

"The *Fox* curses like a *sailor*!" 

"I made a point of spending time in their bars to pick up as much profanity as possible --" 

"*Why*? No, no, why didn't you tell me *later*?" 

"I was... so frightened when I first started out, Harv," and Bruce moves close once more, covering Harvey's hand on the mantelpiece with his own. "I had made myself into something of a *machine*, and then I'd covered the machine with... with a thin *skin* of who I believed the Fox should be. I was terrified that I would be found out at any time, and I was terrified that you would try to change my mind, and I was terrified that I wouldn't, truly, be able to help. To... join you." 

"Join -- you could've *been* a damned lawyer, Bruce! You could've been a cop, or a Fed, or -- anything you *wanted*! You still *can*!" 

Bruce looks at Harvey. Just -- he looks at Harvey, and reaches to cup his face -- 

"*What*?" 

And then he smiles ruefully again. 

Harvey narrows his eyes. "Bruce, don't -- don't play." 

"I'm not, Harv. It's only... it's only that I'm reminded of your own words about the Fox." 

Harvey *glares* -- and then he squeezes his eyes shut. "Fine. Gotham needs a damned vigilante." He opens his eyes again. "That vigilante doesn't have to be *you*!" 

"Harv --" 

"I'm *serious*, Bruce! How the hell am I supposed to *sleep* at night when I know you're running around diving off rooftops and wading into *gunfights* with stupid little knives --" 

"And smoke bombs, and firebombs, and bolos, and *mastery* of *several* martial arts disciplines --" 

"*Bruce*! You know what I *mean*!" 

"I do. It's just that I also know *precisely* how many death threats you've received in the past three months *alone* --" 

"That's not the same *thing*!" 

"I thought it was quite intriguingly ruthless of you and Jim to decide to say nothing about the unexploded pipe bomb this past March --" 

"Bruce --" 

"And... I know how often you *don't* carry your weapon --" 

"Damn it --" 

"And I know how very little about any of that Gilda knows." 

"Don't --" 

"Or... the Bruce you thought you knew, for that matter." 

"'Thought I knew.' That -- that kinda says it all," and Harvey's eyes are hot in the wrong way -- 

"Please, Harv. I... I'm asking for your forgiveness." 

"No. No, you're not, because forgiveness is what you get when you *stop* doing the fucked-up thing and promise never to *start* again." 

"Harv. I'll never tell you another lie." 

Harvey flinches as if he's been struck -- 

As if *Bruce* had --"We were. We were never supposed to lie to each other." 

"Anyone else. *Anyone* else -- just not us." 

Bruce nods slowly. "I wish. I wish I had been more brave. I've always wanted to be as brave as you --" 

"Don't -- stop. Okay. Okay, you..." Harvey moves away again, *turns* away and pushes first one hand and then the other back through his hair. He *sniffs* -- 

"Harv...?" 

"I almost hit you." 

"*Harv* --" 

"The one thing -- the one thing I promised --" 

"You've made *lots* of promises, and kept --" 

"Most of them?" Harvey looks back at Bruce from over his shoulder, smiling ruefully and -- 

"Harv, that smile looks so... so *old* on your face..." 

"Yeah? Well, right about now I *feel* old, big guy. I feel like I just went twenty rounds with -- you. Heh. This place -- all the 'unfinished rooms' upstairs are your headquarters." 

"Yes. There are also sub-basements for the supercomputer --" 

"*Christ*, you -- and I remember Dad buying that for you and wondering what the hell you would *do* with it." 

"The computer science department in R&D swears they'll be more useful than they are now within the next few years. For now... I use it to keep track of the various vigilantes and the worst recidivists, human and otherwise." 

Harvey shudders and turns away again. He looks -- 

He looks tired, and worn, and beautiful. 

He looks like someone Bruce can't *have*, not fully... 

But there are worse things than having a wonderful, beautiful brother. Bruce moves close and cups Harvey's shoulders from the back, rubbing out tension as casually as he can. 

"Bruce..." 

"I'm not. I'm not trying to seduce you." 

"Who... who was the Purple Princess? Really." 

"Harv --" 

"I mean, I already know *Dinah's* the new Canary -- where the hell was she tonight?" 

"She contacted me earlier. She seems to be trapped between dimensions with the JSA at the moment. I -- Catwoman." 

Harvey tenses hard enough to ruin Bruce's efforts to soothe. 

"Harv, I... I've come to recognize that she isn't the best possible relationship choice," Bruce says, and -- realizes that it's true. 

"You... heh. You were seriously *dating* a *thief*." 

"We... weren't exactly dating. Until we were, and, well, that was disastrous." 

Harvey puts his face in his hands again. "You were screwing her," he says, and his voice is muffled. 

"Seven... seven times." 

"On --" He moves his hands. "On *rooftops*." 

"Yes." 

"And -- you were too honest with her." 

"I thought, perhaps.... I thought perhaps we could find common ground. Vigilantes are criminals, too." 

"How -- wait. The Fox never recovered everything from her heists." 

"No --" 

Harvey tears himself a way and turns on Bruce. "No is *right*," and he's jabbing at Bruce's chest with a finger -- 

The Fox resists the urge to correct his form into a strike for his solar plexus -- 

"You can't *do* that shit, Bruce!" 

"I know --" 

"I'm *serious*! I don't care *how* hot she is -- you break *enough* damned laws without playing favorites with a goddamned *thief*." 

Bruce smiles ruefully -- 

"No, Bruce. There is *nothing* you can say to excuse that." 

"I know, Harv." 

"Then -- what's the smile for?" 

"It's only... I believe I was in the process of going mad." 

"Ya *think*? Christ, *how* old were you when you started making the Fox up in your head?" 

"I was a toddler --" 

"So when are *you* pegging the madness, big guy? How do you do *that* math?" 

"I thought -- no. I didn't think. If I had..." Bruce shakes his head. "It's not important, Harv --" 

"Don't -- don't *do* that --" 

"Harv. This is... I have been mistaken and wrong-headed and *foolish* about you in the past. Still, there are few things I'm more sure of than the fact that you do not wish to hear what I nearly said." 

"God *damn* it, Bruce, you don't get to --" 

"*Harv* --" 

"*Talk* to me! Don't -- don't fucking lie to me or *hide* from me anymore. Just -- you're my *brother*, Bruce --" 

"Then let me not *hurt* you. Oh -- Harv, I never *blamed* you for not telling me about the death threats --" 

"*Please*, Bruce!"

Bruce gasps and -- shudders. Harvey's eyes are wild and hurt, Harvey's body is tense and *taut*. 

He is. He is shaking. 

And Bruce nods once and swallows. "It's only... I hoped, for a very long time, that your falling for Gilda would mean that the *three* of us would be together. For... forever." 

Harvey recoils. 

"It -- it's not *important*, anymore --" 

"That's when it started going pear-shaped for real." 

"Harv --" 

"That's what you're *saying* to me. Isn't it?" 

Bruce swallows again and *tries* to shake his head. 

"*Bruce*. Don't *lie* to me. You -- God, I broke up with you and three *days* later the Fox starts leaving criminals bruised and *beaten* and *restrained* all over Gotham. I can't -- I couldn't forget that if I *tried*!" 

Bruce closes his eyes -- but only for a moment. "It would have happened anyway. I was only... I was waiting --" 

"For me. You were waiting for *me*." 

"And -- with you, Harv. You -- I've never regretted anything about our relationship -- oh --" 

Harvey pulls him close, squeezes him *tightly* -- 

"Harv..." 

"It wouldn't have gone down the same way." 

"It --" 

"Don't *lie*. Because -- ah, God, Bruce, I *know* you!" Harvey pulls back just enough to stare at him. "I know you, and you... God, there's never been a time when you *haven't* waited for me, and given me *every* possible fucking chance to pull you back from the *cliff*. You let me keep you from Lex for *half our lives*!" 

"I -- he confused me --" 

"You didn't see how you *looked* at that bastard. God, like -- like a wolf with his nose up. And --" Harvey growls. "Forget him. You and I *both* know that the only reason you bothered with actual *college* courses while you were traveling was to make *me* happy. God, just -- not even *Dad*. And you. That was time you could've been *training*. But you didn't. You let me hold you *back*." 

"It was never a *hardship*, Harv --" 

"No, you wouldn't see it that way. You just. You *waited* for me, and when I didn't come through, when I finally proved that you couldn't have what you wanted more than fucking anything --" Harvey growls again, and it sounds like a *sob* -- 

"*Please*, Harv, you mustn't ever *blame* yourself --" 

"Why *not*? Tell me you *wouldn't* have put off risking your life -- your beautiful fucking *body* -- every damned night if it meant you could've had me and Gilda for that much longer." 

Bruce -- he tries to *breathe* -- tries to *even* his breathing -- 

"Ah, *God*, Bruce! I was never *worth* that kind of -- but I don't *want* you to -- and I tried to *hit* you --" 

"Please, Harv, it's -- I swear to you that it's all *right* --" 

"It *isn't*!" 

"I was -- oh, Harv, I was *broken* then, and I -- I can't *deny* that. But now... now I'm happy." 

"With a seventeen-year-old psycho of a meta and a *supervillain*?" 

And a boy, a beautiful boy -- "I... I believe I'm going to adopt Dick Grayson. As well." 

Harvey stares at him. 

Bruce licks his lips. "I... it's only that we spent a great deal of time in conversation before the show --" 

"About what you *do* with your nights?" 

"Ah -- no. But when I went to him as the Fox..." Bruce shakes his head. "It can be difficult to *be* the Fox when good people are emotionally distressed around me." 

"So -- I was too *happy* around you? Is *that* what you're saying?" 

"Harv, you could never be --" 

"Not what I *mean* --" 

"Then -- then, yes, Harv. I could see the light in your eyes for the Fox's... antics. I was surprised by how *much* you enjoyed... those aspects of myself, but... Harv, if the Fox had ever been near you at a time of true difficulty, the secret would've been revealed within moments." 

Harvey frowns and squeezes Bruce's biceps *hard* -- "Because the Fox isn't built to comfort anyone." 

"Not... not truly, no --" 

"And -- you're saying you're gonna keep this up. That this -- fuck, of *course*, you have to keep that poor kid close --" Harvey growls again and steps back, pinching the bridge of his nose and tapping his foot -- "You can't -- I can't stop you from going out as the Fox anymore, can I." 

"It feels. That's... a very painful question." 

Harvey looks up at him and smiles wryly. "With one *hell* of a painful answer, yeah?" 

Bruce nods. 

"Since when -- you *tortured* that cop. And -- fuck, you ran *roughshod* over that asshole Thorne tonight..." 

"Yes." 

"'Yes'? That's it?" 

Bruce stares at his hands, which are still somewhat pale and softened from the gloves. His own hands. He looks up at Harvey again. "I'm not... I have always respected your commitment to non-violence, Harv." 

"But... you don't share it." 

Bruce shakes his head. 

"I mean -- that's obvious. That's really -- I'm actually a really good shot. Did you know that?" 

"Yes. I... Jim told me about your scores when I expressed worry about you during the Moroni case." 

"God, *those* assholes --" Harvey paces away -- and then comes right back. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you *should*." 

"I agree." 

"But *you* still should." 

"Harv... had I broken into Thorne's home before and frightened him as badly as I did tonight, we might have known months ago -- or even years -- about the Fifteenth." 

"'Frightened him'. Is that what you're calling that? Jim says the EMTs said you left his sac looking like a *grapefruit*." 

The Fox smiles. "He'll be *fine*, Harv --" 

Harvey snorts. "You -- I can't believe you can..." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Yes?" 

"I'd *been* calling myself eighteen kinds of idiot for *missing* this, but not even your damned facial expressions are the same. Are they." 

"I spent... many, many hours practicing every aspect of the Fox's body language I could reasonably control --" 

"Yeah, that's -- I can't wrap my head around you doing this as a toddler. I can't wrap my head around you screwing a thief. I can't wrap my head around you screwing a damned *teenager* -- no matter *how* hardcore she is -- but mostly?" 

"I'm listening, Harv." 

Harvey nods once and crosses his left arm over his chest, gripping his right elbow while he taps on his temple with the fingers of his right hand. It's a pose he often uses in court when he wants the jury to know that he's thinking deeply. There, it's entirely conscious. Here, now... 

Here and now, it's tension and pain and *work*, and Bruce wants to *ease* -- 

"The worst -- the hardest part is imagining you doing all this stuff while we were together. Not -- not while you were on the other side of the world without me there with you, but *here*. *Gotham*." 

"It seems... more deceptive?"

"*Yes* -- no, actually. Heh. It really doesn't. It just makes *me* feel like a *dumbass*, Bruce," and Harvey strokes the four-inch knife scar on Bruce's left pectoral. "You always had a story for your scars. You... made 'em all up as soon as you got the things?" 

"Yes, Harv. It seemed... prudent." 

"I guess *everyone* has to be prudent about *something*," and Harv paces away again, moving back to the couch and stroking the arm, the back -- 

Moving to the bookshelves nearest the window and stroking over the spines -- 

"How many of these have you read?" 

"Between sixty-five and seventy-five percent --" 

"*When* -- no, you told me about that. How you speed-read and then use that eidetic memory of yours to savor *later*." 

Bruce nods, knowing Harvey can see it in his peripheral vision -- 

"You have to do better, Bruce." 

"I -- yes. I know." 

"Do you?" And Harvey looks back at him from over his shoulder again. "A *lot* of damned people know who you are now, and -- no, wait, how do you get back *in* here every night?" 

"I purchased the garage halfway down the block, built a hidden entrance behind the hologram of a wall, and constructed a somewhat crude passage along the old subway lines beneath this street." 

Harvey stares at him. "Do I wanna know who *did* that work?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Quite a few of my scars are construction-related, Harv." 

"I --" Harvey turns back to the window and rubs his temples for a long moment. He -- 

Bruce moves close again, and massages, and tries to *soothe* -- 

"God, you -- know exactly how good you feel." 

"I taught myself this for you." 

Harvey shivers, opens his mouth -- and laughs. "I was about to say 'don't' or something else brilliant like that, but... heh. That made all the other lies easier, didn't it. Me explicitly *telling* you to hide your feelings from me." 

"I --" He can't lie. 

Not about this, anyway. 

Fox -- 

He can never know how we *really* feel about Dick. Not all of it. 

Bruce winces helplessly -- 

"Yeah, that's an answer, all right. Ah, God, big guy, what -- what would you have *done* if I hadn't wanted a political career? Or -- or if there was no Gilda." 

Bruce strokes Harvey's back through his suit jacket, seeking and easing knots of tension as he goes -- 

"I need. I need an answer to that." 

"I... I had dreams of you joining me, Harv. Of you... I didn't begin truly working my *body* until I met you. It wasn't --" 

"It's another way you were waiting for me. It." Harvey shudders and presses back against Bruce -- 

"Oh... Harv." 

"Just -- another hug, Bruce."

"Of course," and Bruce wraps his arms around Harvey's waist and squeezes him firmly -- and doesn't bury his face against Harvey's sensitive throat. 

Goosebumps form there just the same. 

Bruce lets one hand splay against Harvey's abdomen -- 

And Harvey's breathing hitches. He -- 

"Harv..." 

"Oh... brother. Guess I *don't* have to worry about you leaving yourself lonely anymore, yeah?" 

"Dinah is a wonderful friend. Lex is... someone I'll spend my life watching and wondering about, if not necessarily in negative ways." 

Harvey frowns. "That Dinah... she's too young for you to get serious with?" 

"I'm not sure *I'm* ready --" 

No, not that lie. 

Bruce laughs. "All right, that was perfectly ridiculous. The truth is that she isn't ready *and* that I wouldn't be ready for her even if she were ready for me. She is a friend. I can't -- I can't *live* within her." 

Harvey strokes Bruce's forearms. "You've tried?" 

"It didn't seem like an especially good idea *to* try, Harv. She cares deeply for Green Arrow." 

"Big and hairy. Heh. That her usual type?" 

Bruce smiles. "It certainly seems to be." 

"I... can't decide if I want you to bring her home to the family or not, big guy." 

"Mother seems interested in meeting her... but the more I consider it, the more I believe it may seem too... serious. For Dinah's desires, I mean." 

Harvey sighs. "Yeah. You can't just bring home *everyone* you're screwing -- wait. Does *Lex* want to do the family dinner thing? Am I gonna have to worry about Dad winding up with a bullet in his eye from one of Luthor's pet psychopaths?" 

"I rather hope not. Though... Mother expressed an interest." 

"Bruce... about you and Mom..." 

Be ready to lie your *ass* off, Brucie. 

Yes. "What is it, Harv?" 

Harvey frowns and looks down, squeezing Bruce's forearms. 

"Is it... what's wrong?" 

"A lot of things! I -- no, not that," Harvey says, and laughs softly. "Just -- are you *sure* she doesn't know? I always thought... I've always thought she knew more than she was saying. About a *lot* of different things." 

She knew about *us*, Harv -- "I... I must admit that a part of me wouldn't be precisely *surprised* if she knew all along --" 

"*That*. Right there, because sometimes -- there have been times when I've wondered if anyone knew you -- if anyone *could* know you -- better than Mom."

Bruce takes a shuddering breath -- "I've... had the same thoughts." 

"Yeah, I --" 

"But not since I met you." 

"I -- Jesus, Bruce. You --" Harvey pulls away again, but only enough that he can turn and face Bruce, *cup* Bruce's face and lean in enough that their foreheads are touching -- 

"Harv..." 

"Are you saying -- no one knew you, at all. Not for three solid years." 

Bruce shudders again -- 

"Oh, *Bruce* --" Harvey kisses him hard, but it's the same paradox as ever: Harvey's mouth is broad and soft and welcoming, and it turns even the most painful kisses -- 

The most desperately *needful* kisses -- 

They're both shuddering now, and somehow Bruce's hands are on Harvey's lean hips -- 

And Harvey's hands are in his *hair* -- 

And Harvey tastes like stationhouse coffee, bitter and strong and rich at once -- 

Bruce moans and *yanks* Harvey closer by the hips -- 

Harvey grunts and bites Bruce's *lip* -- but only for a moment. He pulls back from the kiss, but he doesn't try to step back, and -- they're breathing each other's breath. They're -- 

So *close* -- 

But Harvey's expression crumples like paper in a careless *fist*. 

"Harv --" 

"I'm sorry. I'm -- God, I'm so fucking *sorry* --" 

"*No* --" 

"I never -- I *wanted* you to be in love with me. I wanted you to be crazy for me like I was crazy for you. Like I still *am* sometimes -- I." 

Bruce doesn't kiss him again. Bruce doesn't *move*, because movement would mean -- 

Yeah, Brucie, there's only so much I can do about *this* hard-on. 

Understood. "Harv. Please... tell me what you want?" 

"Because I can *have* it? God, *Bruce* --" And Harvey shakes his head -- 

*Beats* his head against Bruce's shoulder -- 

And Bruce knows what's needed. What -- 

He moves his hands from Harvey's hips to his shoulders -- 

And Harvey shudders again. "Bruce --" 

"Harv. You. It would hurt you so badly to cheat on Gilda." 

"Don't -- don't fucking tell me --" 

"You. You know this about yourself --" 

"Stop being *like* this --" 

"I love you. I will *always* love you. And one of the reasons why is that you will always, *always* do the right thing. Even when --" 

Harvey twists away, *turns* away -- 

He blows out a breath and paces *gracelessly* -- until he stops and takes a *deep* breath. "You -- of course you're a damned hero."

"You gave depth and meaning to my dreams, Harv. A *purpose*." 

"And if I want your fantasies right now?"

"I -- when I think of you and Gilda, I often imagine being there. Touching... making love." 

Another shudder. "Want -- I want you to *tell* me about those fantasies, Bruce --" 

"No." 

"*Brother* --" And Harvey growls and turns to face him. "*Do* it, Bruce. Just -- *slip* a little. Come *with* me." 

Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "I love you, Harv. And I won't. I won't let you punish yourself with my desires. *Our* desires." 

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut again -- but then he nods. "I... yeah. That's -- that's exactly what you should be saying right now, given who you are -- and who I've been to you." 

"My brother. My love. My best friend." 

Harvey opens his eyes and cocks his head to the side. "You're gonna give that to Lex now?" 

"No. I... he's no one's brother. Additionally, he's madly in love with Mercy Graves --" 

"The pistol-packing *chauffeur*?" 

"She's also quite dangerous with knives and assorted blunt instruments. Additionally... he's quite capable of being my friend without speaking to me for months at a time. He may find that he prefers it." 

Harvey frowns. "You deserve better than that. You -- tell me you *know* that?" 

Bruce... doesn't squeeze himself. Nor does he cross the room and drop to his knees. He is -- he can *be* beyond that. 

If we put our mind to it. 

Yes. 

I'm here, brother. 

Yes. "I'm... I'm not going to let myself be alone again, Harv --" 

"Do you *promise*?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I do. I can't -- I couldn't do it, anyway. I'm not... I'm not that strong." 

"Don't sell yourself *short* --" 

"Harv --" 

"I *mean* it, Bruce! There's nothing wrong with you. There's -- I don't *want* you to stop being the Fox, and it doesn't have a damned thing to do with how much Gotham needs you and it has *everything* to do with how good you are, how brave and brilliant and *good*. And, yeah, *strong* --" 

Bruce --

I can feel it. I can feel -- so much -- 

The taste of him -- 

His mouth -- 

"Bruce...?"

"Harv. Harv, I need to ask you to leave." 

Harvey rears back -- 

And Bruce lets the smile on his face be as pained as it wishes to be. He stares at his hands -- no. He moves close to Harvey, and he hugs him, and he doesn't push his thigh between Harvey's own, and he doesn't lick Harvey's sensitive throat -- 

He steps back, and then he does it again. 

And Harvey frowns. "And... this is me, *just* twigging to the fact that you're wearing a jock." 

"Yes." 

"And *can't* actually get as hard --" 

"Inside. I'm hard inside, Harv." 

Harvey hisses a breath. "Do I get to apologize again?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "I love you. Go home to Gilda."

"Who -- don't be alone tonight, Bruce --" 

"I..." Bruce shakes his head again -- 

"Just -- *call* Lex. Make him -- let him talk shit about me for an hour, okay? That would make *me* feel better." 

God, I love him. 

Yes. I -- "I'll call him, Harv." 

"Okay. Okay. And -- just -- please don't ever hate me, big guy. I know nobody can ask for that --" 

"You can. And I never will." 

Harvey swallows, stroking down his abdomen *slowly* -- he jerks his hand away from himself and walks out without another word.

And Bruce... 

Bruce goes to sit down -- 

The Fox stops him and strips him out of his underwear and jock.

Bruce feels significantly more *free* than he did before, and he isn't sure if he's pleased about that -- 

Pick up the phone, Brucie. 

But -- 

You thought we were just humoring Harv. I know. We're not. 

I'm not sure if I *want* -- 

You need to remind yourself how good it is with him, Brucie. And -- he can help us with Dick. When the time comes to get him for ourselves. 

Fox, we don't even know if Dick will *want* -- 

We're gonna give him everything -- including an incredible way to keep from thinking about things he doesn't want to think about. 

*Fox* -- 

And we *will* get him to share his grief, and -- you'll be perfect for that. He's ours. 

We must not be -- 

Mercenary, or grasping, or -- any of those other things. Yeah, I *know*. It's *unseemly*. But -- they're *gonna* put Dick in a group home if they haven't already. 

Oh. Oh, but -- 

No blood relatives, at all, I'm betting. You know what the laws for this stuff are like.

Bruce winces and sits. He does know. He had... allowed himself to not think about it. 

Call. Because there's no way on *earth* Lex hasn't come up with a workaround for Constance. 

Bruce picks up the telephone and dials Lex's private line -- 

And there are the distinctive clicks of the call being shunted to *another* line. Hm. 

Yeah, be careful. 

I will -- 

"Mercy, darling, you still can't kill him," Lex says, obviously half-asleep. 

"Ah... Lex?" 

"Oh, ten lords a-leaping. Ignore that, Bruce. Mercy isn't above waking me up in the middle of the night in order to get orders more to her liking." 

Bruce blinks. "Does that work?" 

"Never," Lex says, and -- already sounds infinitely more awake. "We both, however, vastly enjoy me punishing her for the attempts." 

"Hm." 

"By the way, I'm about two blocks away from you in the penthouse suite of the Chilton right now, because I'm a hideously impatient man and you don't call me enough." 

"I -- it's only been a couple of *days* --" 

"Just the same. Which of us is going where?" 

Well. "I'm entirely naked." 

"Whereas *I* am wearing boxer briefs. All right, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Goodbye." Lex hangs up. 

The Fox is laughing within him. Raucously. 

Bruce gathers the Fox's clothes and brings them to the hampers Alfred has set aside for his use. 

Alfred himself is nowhere to be seen -- 

And there's a note on his -- not Bruce's -- bedroom door. Bruce takes it down -- 

_Master Bruce,_

_I have decided to indulge myself with a late repast with Dr. Thompkins, during which there will be much laughter and a touch of alcohol abuse._

Bruce blinks -- and reads on: 

_Please do not be alarmed by this decision; I **will** be home by morning. In the meantime, I have left you a light snack in the refrigerator. Master Harvey refused to eat, but I have faith in your ability to be convincing about the benefits of proper nutrition._

Bruce *winces* -- 

_If not, you must not feel duty-bound to consume everything on the tray. I will not be insulted if you consume only half._

Bruce makes a note to eat at least three-quarters of whatever it is. 

_Additionally, I must ask you not to 'wait up' for me, both because I plan to stay out very late indeed, and because I plan to return in a most disreputable state. It would be unseemly --_

I think you're not allowed to use that word anymore. 

Sometimes it's the *best* word, Fox. 

Still. 

Hm. Bruce looks back at the note --

_It would be unseemly for you to see me thus. While this strongly suggests that I should never **allow** myself to reach this state, I find myself convinced that ignoring that suggestion will allow me a rather necessary degree of mental and emotional calm._

_Sleep well when you do, and good evening._

_A._

I wonder what he's even *like* when he's hammered. 

I imagine it will be quite terrible, Fox. He might use contractions. 

The Fox snorts -- stop that, Brucie. 

Hm, yes. I'm a bit disturbed by the fact that we appear to have driven him to drink.

Don't forget the drugs. 

Oh -- oh, that's just not *safe* -- 

Eh, Leslie'll be right there for him. She probably *suggested* the booze. 

It's true that she's not above the medicinal use of single-malt. 

And peach schnapps. 

*Really*? 

Oh, yeah, Brucie. You totally caught a glimpse of it in her apartment when you were ten. 

Bruce blinks. How... how do you keep *track* of all that information? 

The Fox shows himself wearing a sweater-vest, a button down shirt, conservative slacks, and loafers. He pulls a pair of horn-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and toys with them in a manner which is almost certainly *meant* to suggest a certain fidgety aesthetic, but... 

You look like you had violent intercourse with a librarian. 

Like I fucked one right out of his clothes? 

I... yes. 

The Fox snickers and puts the glasses on before blinking owlishly at him. Brucie, just go with the idea that you're always -- *always* -- thinking of about eighteen different things. 

That many? 

Also, at any given time? Eight to eleven of those things are *wildly* inappropriate.

How many of those things are about -- no, never mind, I'd rather not know. 

The Fox takes off the glasses to smile gently at him. I *promise* ninety percent of your inappropriate thoughts tonight have been about Dick.

And that's... a good thing?

Well, it's certainly not incest. I think that counts as an improvement. 

How do you *focus* with all of that... that *pornography* in your mind? 

*Our* mind, Brucie. And most of the time I'm just letting it run in the background, like how Mom listens to the radio while she's reading. 

And that... quite obviously works. Bruce nods and moves to pull the tray from the refrigerator. There are bowls of hummus and baba ghannouj, makdoos and feta, ful medammis, and tabouleh... 

I wonder if Lex likes this kind of food. 

I hope so, and Bruce brings the tray to his bedroom. He pulls on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and neatens his hair as much as is possible without a thorough shower -- wait. 

Yeah, Brucie?

You said half of my thoughts at any given time were inappropriate ones. 

Yep. 

You don't *consider* my thoughts about Lex to be inappropriate. 

Not the ones where he's the same age as you are -- oh. You're wondering how many of your *other* thoughts are pornographic. 

*Yes*, Fox. 

Brucie... let's just say we were hard up for a *while* and leave it at that. 

I -- 

The doorbell rings, and the Fox shoos him off to answer it. Paranoia had made him install a camera there, and the monitor shows Lex waving at it with one hand while holding what certainly appears to be a box of chocolates in the other. Which is wonderful, if odd. 

The fact that Hope Terrell is *also* standing there with a *gun* drawn -- 

The bitter with the sweet, Brucie. 

Indeed. 

Bruce opens the door and gestures them both inside before closing it behind them. Hope nods to him respectfully. "Is there anyone other than you in the building." 

"No, Hope." 

Something -- *something* -- flares behind Hope's brown eyes, and Bruce can't keep himself from beginning to shift into a ready position -- 

Lex sighs. "As invigorating as this sort of thing is... Hope will not attack you or anyone you deem worthy of their personal safety, Bruce." He turns to Hope. "You still can't kidnap him back to Metropolis." 

Bruce coughs -- 

And Hope nods again. "All right, Lex. May I grid."

Lex raises an eyebrow at Bruce. 

There's an urge to refuse out of hand -- 

It's not like he doesn't *know*. Also, *you* encrypted all those files on the computer. He can't find out anything you don't tell him. 

True. "Please, Hope, feel free. Though I must ask you to holster your weapon once Alfred returns home." 

Hope looks to Lex -- 

Who nods and gestures without looking away from Bruce. He... 

"You didn't have to wear a suit, Lex. It's three in the morning."

"Would you believe that I didn't bring any casual clothes?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- and thinks about it. "How many casual clothes do you own?" 

Lex grins. "Less than I will when I rule the world. Give me the tour?" 

Bruce does so, trying not to rush. Lex asks few questions, and is very clearly memorizing as they go. He stops Bruce before he can lead them to the Fox's headquarters. "Lex...?" 

"I'll get too distracted. You can show me some other time." 

Bruce nods and smiles, stroking Lex's cheekbone. "Alfred is the only other person who's seen it." 

"I -- not even Canary?" 

"Not yet." 

Lex's expression suggests *black* rage -- and then he laughs it off and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

The Fox licks his teeth. "Care to tell me what that was...?"

"Oh -- you. Take me back to the bedroom and that lovely spread, please." 

The Fox rests his hand at the small of Lex's back and leads the way, humming softly. 

"Is that... ah. Louis Prima. Excellent choice." 

"*Thank* you. I've been thinking of branching out."

Lex snorts. "Of course you have. For the record, the rage was directed at myself for being more interested in why you needed me *tonight* than in penetrating your inner sanctum." 

"Ooh, talk *dirty* to --" 

"Fox." 

The Fox laughs quietly and winks at Lex. "If it makes you feel any better, Brucie just nobly -- *oh* so nobly -- refused sex with Harv to keep him from doing something he'd regret." 

"'Better'. That's supposed to make me feel *better*?" 

"The fact that you're not alone in your urges to pin your cock back for the sake of all that is good and right and *gooshy* doesn't work for you, at all?"

Lex scowls -- stops. "Wait, no, it does. *Thank* you, Fox." 

"*Anytime*," and the Fox leads them back into the bedroom and turns to toy with Lex's -- orchid -- tie. "May I?" 

Lex sets the chocolates down on an end table and cocks his head to the side. "I'm afraid you put me too much on my guard for that, Fox. However, that's the sort of weakness on my part which *won't* be tolerated for long. Which of you wanted to call me?" 

Perhaps don't tell him that Harvey suggested it. 

The Fox grins. "I did. Brucie still has issues taking what he needs sometimes," and the Fox shrugs off the robe and hangs it on the door. 

Lex looks him over with slow, appreciative care... and nods again. "That isn't the only reason why he didn't think to call me." 

Oh, *Lex* -- the Fox smiles ruefully. "We had to deal with Rupert Thorne tonight --"

"He's not seriously comparing me to that *barbarian*, is he?" 

"Easy, dollface, *easy*. There's no *substantive* comparison that can be made... but." And the Fox raises his eyebrows. 

Another scowl -- and Lex begins to strip himself with rapid, brutal motions. 

Bruce pushes forward. "You don't have to --" 

"Bruce --" Lex shakes his head. "I need more of my control for this conversation. Let me speak to the Fox again, please." 

Bruce nods and sinks back -- 

And the Fox moves to sit on the bed. "What do you need?" 

"I'm not -- does he not believe me when I say that I'm *behaving* now?" 

"*Not* the problem. He was feeling guilty --" 

"For -- for caring about someone like me. Someone who's done... terrible things. *Thorne*-like things." 

The Fox inclines his head. "He's doing better now." 

"What -- what did that creature do this time?" 

The Fox blows out a breath. "Long story -- which he planned to tell you all of anyway, but here's the gist: Thorne put his nephew-by-marriage Tony Zucco in charge of some protection rackets. Zucco decided -- for *incomprehensible* reasons of his own -- to get his hands dirty himself by fucking with Haly's Circus, which we happened to attend today. We met a boy named Dick Grayson who convinced us -- among other things -- to buy the circus. Effortlessly. While this conversation was going on, Zucco was sabotaging the ropes for the Flying Graysons' trapeze act --" 

"*Shit* --" 

"Yeah. The boy is fine. His parents look like marionettes with cut strings." 

"Shit, shit --" Lex growls and strips himself faster, toeing out of his shoes and *yanking* off his socks -- 

"Lexie..." 

"I don't -- I *did* have a few fingers in pies like that. My -- I have massive and *difficult* organized crime connections, and -- all right, this is where I admit that Mercy and Prudence are in the process of crippling -- not killing! -- several hitmen who would otherwise be aimed at me and mine to discourage certain individuals from striking out at me for cutting out certain *enterprises* -- oh, stop looking at me like that! I'm only crippling the ones I *couldn't* immediately have arrested!" 

"I..." The Fox bites the tip of his tongue. "I'm being forcibly reminded of my own activities --" 

"As you *should* be," Lex says, and stops stripping once he's down to his -- also orchid -- boxer briefs. "It still *counts* when you're doing it *yourself*." 

"Very true --" 

"And -- and being proactive is a *good* thing." 

"*Most* of the time, yeah --" 

"And." Lex scowls again, arms crossed over his chest and legs regally spread -- 

"I'm listening, Lexie." 

"I've done... a lot of things. I believe I'd *remember* if I'd ever decided to feed on children's *tears*, but..." Lex growls -- 

Stops -- 

And stares directly into Bruce's eyes. "It's entirely possible -- probable -- that some underling of mine or of the men and women I've done exceedingly profitable business with over the years did something *just* like that." 

The Fox inclines his head. 

"You -- you're still not letting me confess." 

"Dollface, I think you'll find that I'm not stopping you even a little." 

"Yes, yes, but you're not *railing* at me or *shaking* me or weeping bitter, guilty *tears*." 

The Fox blinks at him. 

"No, it wouldn't actually make anything better -- why are you so *agreeable*?" 

The Fox sits up tailor-style and takes a bite of hummus-smeared pita. He chews, swallows, and pats the bed. "Come eat." 

Lex snarls at him. 

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "Come eat *please*...?" 

Lex strides across the room and sits on the other side of the bed, scowling a little bit more -- and then beginning to eat. 

Bruce sighs in relief inside him -- 

And the Fox rolls his head on his neck. "Would it help if I told you why I --" 

"*Yes*!" 

"Okay, then. The other night? I tortured a cop." 

"You -- he was dirty." 

"Mm-hmm. I could also say something about the fourteen-year-old girl he was abusing when we walked into his apartment, but..." The Fox waves a hand. "It wasn't really about that." 

Lex frowns and stares at him. "Isn't it *always* about that for people in your line of work?" 

The Fox smiles to himself -- 

And Bruce fills their mind with the feel of Dick's fingertips against their mouth. 

"Yes and no? I'm going with yes and no." 

"Fine, you tortured a criminal --"

"I tortured a *cop*, Lexie. Because *another* cop from his precinct had run for her life to the Commissioner. Because that precinct was full of dirty cops." 

"I -- not the whole --" 

"The whole precinct. Most of them were 'just' taking protection money from gangsters -- including Thorne's creatures -- but... there've been a lot of dead John Does showing up in their records." 

"I -- why do you *live* here?" 

The Fox turns his attention to the tabouleh and thinks about it for a little while. 

Lex stares at him for a long moment -- and then focuses on the baba ghannouj. 

It's -- 

We love it here, Fox. 

Yeah, we do, but *why*? 

Bruce frowns within him. Gotham is our home. 

It doesn't *have* to be -- 

Fox, you know what Father always says about people who desert their homes instead of working to improve them. 

*Dad* lives in *Bristol*. 

But he's always -- he's never stinted on giving to the Foundation, and Mother has devoted her life to it -- 

From *Bristol*. 

Well, do you want to move to Metropolis, Fox? 

No! Never! I'm just trying to figure out *why* we love it here so much. 

The city is alive -- 

So are other cities, Brucie. 

The blend of cultures -- 

Other cities. 

There's always something for us to *do*. *Both* of us.

Other... is it possible that we just like being needed? 

Bruce *looks* at him.

Brucie, you *know* that's one of my -- 

The look gets louder. 

Fine, okay, but this is probably the first and *only* time the world will have cause to be grateful to our massive psychological issues -- 

Fox. 

*Other* than those issues -- and the Fox lets himself laugh out loud. 

Lex pauses with a stuffed eggplant a few inches away from his mouth. "Let me guess: you just discovered that your reasons for staying in this hell-pit are entirely crazy." 

The Fox bats his lashes. "You know us so *well* --" 

"*Other* cities need people like you, too. Do you have any *idea* what this nation's capital is like after dark?" 

"I -- where *are* you planning to rule the world from?" 

"*Metropolis*. How is that even a *question*?" 

The Fox sits back and stretches his legs, crossing them at the ankle. "Because sometimes I'm a *fool*, dollface --" 

"Yes, you *are* --" 

"Gotham is in my blood, Lexie. There *was* a time when it was all theoretical and I *could've* gone anywhere, but --" 

"There is now an entire *precinct's* worth of heavily-armed men and women with ample reason to *shoot* you --" 

"We made *sure* to play up the underaged prostitute angle. Not one word about internal investigations --" 

"Humans are *terrible* at keeping secrets --" 

"-- because there isn't one. We dropped this in the Feds' lap."

Lex frowns. 

"No, it *isn't* the perfect solution. There *isn't* a perfect solution --" 

"All right, all *right*. Why -- why *else* aren't you berating me for my numerous moral failings and failures?" 

"Other than the fact that you're doing it yourself...?" 

I believe that glare is *murderous*, Fox. 

Is it, though? I mean, we have no idea what he looks like when he's actually ordering an assassination. 

Hm. Ask. 

"Quick question, dollface --" 

"*What*?" 

"Is that what you look like when someone is about to die a distinctly unnatural death?" 

Lex -- flinches. 

Oh -- no. Fox -- 

"Hey, no, that was just curiosity --" 

Lex growls and gets up to pace, stuffed eggplant still in hand. 

"Is this where I let you wear holes in my carpeting?" 

"It's very nice carpeting -- and I appreciate the fact that it's not some horribly *pale* color --" 

"Some of *your* carpeting is pale --" 

"That's for the *design* magazines. They're all fascists in those places -- you have dark carpeting to hide the blood stains." 

"Yes --" 

"Your -- your *HQ* is *disgustingly* practical, isn't it?" 

"Only because it has to be, Lexie." 

Lex stares at him. "Do you mean it?" 

"Uh. Yeah?" 

Lex narrows his *eyes* at him -- 

"Lex --" 

"Put up -- art." 

"Art?" 

"Yes, *art*. Something utterly frivolous and bright and colorful --" 

"Miro?" 

"I *will* have you shot!" 

Bruce pushes forward. "Lex, I'm not very *good* at choosing art." 

"Are you -- hm. Your mother chose all the pieces in the rooms you showed me." 

"Some were chosen by Gilda, too, except --" 

"-- for that Rape of Persephone in the Hellenic style in the study, which she *made*." 

"Yes --" 

"Don't -- be afraid of me." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"I *mean* it!" 

Bruce bites his lip, nods, and offers the foul madammas --

"No, no, I only really like the Egyptian style."

"All right --" 

"When I'm about to order one of my adjuncts to do something *permanent* to someone -- wait, why the hell did she give you the Rape of Persephone?" 

"I didn't have the faintest clue for a long time, Lex, but now that I know that *she* knows all about my history with Harvey..." 

"Oh, for the love of *science*. You're not *Hades*!" 

"Harvey *would* look quite attractive in a chiton, however." 

"And he seduced *you*!" 

"I rather enjoy her thinking of me as -- potentially -- diabolically attractive, though." 

"You --" Lex eats the makdoos. 

Bruce eats a few olives. 

"When I'm about to order someone killed, I look -- and I quote -- as if something important had died within me," Lex says, and crosses his arms over his chest again, looking away. 

"Lex..."

Lex sighs -- "I -- was quoting Mercy, who vastly enjoys getting fucked when I'm in that mood, both because she enjoys the opportunity to feel useful on multiple levels and because she enjoys being frightened by the -- again I'm quoting -- worthy." 

Bruce nods slowly and reaches out. 

Lex ignores -- no, he's not *ignoring* Bruce's hand so much as he's *pretending* to ignore it. In truth... 

"You look... strained." 

"I *am* -- I'm being needy." 

"Right... now?" 

"I'm *here*, aren't I?" 

"I vastly appreciate that. I rather thought you would enjoy continuing to carry on the affair at a distance." 

"Meaning you didn't plan on calling until you had news about Constance?" 

"Yes." 

"You -- are tempting me to hiss. Please don't grow a beard." 

"I'm sorry? And all right. Please come back to bed and eat more." 

"Where *is* Alfred?" 

"Out getting drunk with Leslie Thompkins, according to his note." 

Lex blinks. And stares at him. 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "He's really not taking my commitment to honesty in my personal relationships very well." 

"I -- can't actually blame him for that. I. Tell me why --" 

"I indulged in something of an orgy of landscape destruction at Omphalos, knocked out and knifed Thorne's guards, and then tortured Thorne himself in order to track down Zucco." 

Lex blinks at him again. "And... you didn't have one shred of proof linking him to Zucco." 

"'Bupkis,' as the Fox would say." 

"Your mother uses conversational Yiddish. *You* don't." 

"Very true --" 

"Have you seen your mother lately?" 

"We discussed you." 

"And?" 

"I... hm. I broke up with her." 

"You -- what." 

"That seems like the best way to put it --" 

"Since when did you even *notice* you were dating her?" 

"You -- and Selina, and the Fox -- were really quite clear about it, Lex." 

Lex taps his foot. "Let me speak to the Fox again." 

The Fox stretches and folds his hands behind his neck. "What can I do for you, Lexie?" 

"Since when are you in the business of destroying Bruce's *innocence*?" 

"Since it became abundantly clear that we could either break up with her -- and have you and people *like* you --" 

"There *is* no one like me!" 

"Sorry, dollface, I *misspoke*." 

"Oh -- fine. What was the other option?" 

The Fox lets his eyes slip half-closed. "Make love with her. Finally." 

Lex's jaw drops. 

"She really was... well. She *admitted* to consciously putting a kink in our psyche with her name on it." 

"She -- you're serious."

"Mm-hmm." 

"Was she *hitting* on you?" 

"Mm-hmm -- oh, Lexie. Don't make that face --" 

"I *have* to make that face, Fox! I'm *sane*!" 

The Fox raises his eyebrows.

"Fine, I'm not even a *little* bit sane, but I know what sane looks like and --" 

"Lexie, Lexie -- we broke up." 

Lex looks pained. "You're not going to let me rant about this, are you?" 

The Fox pinches two fingers together. "Brucie is a little more fragile about it than he thinks he is." 

"Oh -- masturbating madmen. Was he -- are you --" 

"He's in love with her, yeah." 

"*Fuck* --" 

"He's *also* in love with you." 

"You -- weren't supposed to say that." 

The Fox grins wetly. "Sorry." 

"Liar. Who are *you* in love with?" 

The Fox shakes his head and smiles a little more broadly. "That's a secret -- from everyone but Brucie." 

Another pained look. "I -- don't think I want you to be in love with me." 

"That's just fine, Lexie." 

"I mean -- I can't even imagine what kind of emotional fortitude a person would have to have to put up with *both* of -- you're not into incest." 

"Not *generally*, no. But sometimes I define it a little differently. I mean, like I told Bruce when we were in Metropolis: I'm the part of him which wanted to *be* Harvey. And *you*." 

"The me that minced and swanned?" 

The Fox mimes shooting a gun at Lex, and blows imaginary smoke from the tip of his index finger before resting his hand on his thigh. 

Lex nods thoughtfully. "That does make sense. What *else* --" 

"I burned down a social club. After brutalizing the handful of Fiorelli goons enjoying their evening in the wrong, wrong place. And then, the ones who *still* didn't talk, I brutalized a little more."

"Burned -- that's a little *severe*, don't you think?" 

"I've seen people die in front of me *all* kinds of times, Lexie. But never..." The Fox shakes his head. "Never the parents of a child I'd come to care about." 

Lex blinks. "That's why you called me. To help you get your hands on the child?" 

"That's how I convinced *Brucie* to call you. He cares about Dick, too." 

"Does he really refer to himself that way?" 

The Fox chuckles. "Much to Brucie's chagrin." 

"How old is he?" 

"Thirteen going on thirty or so. Brucie's worried that he'll get himself into -- serious -- trouble without supervision and intellectual stimulation he can sink his teeth into --" 

"And you?" 

The Fox scratches his thigh. "His mind is incredible. His body is..." The Fox shakes his head. "He can do things effortlessly I had to learn over the course of years. He... I want to give him armor, silk, and knives and see what he does with them." 

"You're joking." 

The Fox raises his eyebrows again. 

"Don't -- don't give me that! I'm not about to send Constance out to commit violent felonies every night!" 

"You're *also* not about to stint on her *training*." 

"Unless she doesn't *want* to!" 

The Fox spreads his hands. "He already asked to come with us tonight. We'll make the offer seriously... soon." 

Lex frowns and searches him. 

"Ask." 

"Keep -- keep your mother away from him." 

The Fox laughs. "I *don't* think he's her type." 

"And I'd even find that reassuring *if I were an idiot*. Keep her away from him." 

The Fox lifts his chin -- and nods. "She'll never be alone with him. About Constance --" 

"Mercy and Prudence only get to introduce themselves after she's comfortable with Hope. Hope... well, she horrifies people as a matter of course, but it turns out that she's quite fond of young children." 

Brucie fills his mind with the image of blonde pigtails floating above the murky fluid in a vast cauldron. 

The Fox suspects he looks horrified, but -- 

"*Relax*. She likes their -- and I'm quoting -- inability to be people other than themselves. Additionally, she's written an incredibly cogent treatise on living with children who have been horrifically abused. It's under the name --" 

"Rose Jackson? *Really*?" 

Lex smiles proudly. "I see you're familiar with it. She's working on a sequel about breaking the cycle of violence." 

All right, now it's his turn to look pained -- 

And Lex snickers -- 

Coughs into his hand -- 

And clears his throat. "I love her madly and Constance will, too. Traumatized children respond brilliantly to calm, measured, and *honest* care, and that is *precisely* what Hope will provide." 

I... can see it, Fox. 

So can I, and it fucking *hurts my brain*. 

Yes, I. I can't help wondering when Hope will murder someone with a sippy cup during the course of her duties as a nanny. 

Constance isn't *that* young. 

You're right, of course. Hope will have to use her reading primer and a pencil. 

The Fox shudders -- 

"And somehow this is more disturbing to you than training a teenaged boy to risk his life on a nightly basis? I think I should call Hope in to slap you." 

"Please don't," Bruce says. "I... suppose this is... rehabilitation?" 

"*Yes*. But also -- I really do think Hope and Constance will be wonderful for each other." 

"How *do* Mercy and Prudence feel about the matter?" 

Lex sighs. "I... Mercy is worried that it means I'll try to marry her. I've had to give her seven new scars just to keep her calm. Prudence... well. Prudence is looking forward to improving Constance's grasp of recreational demolitions." 

"Recreational -- hm." 

Lex comes back to bed. "It *will* be fine, Bruce." 

"It's not that I don't trust you." 

"Hmm, no, it never was *that*," Lex says, and mixes tabouleh with feta on a pita. "You trust me, and you -- care about me, and you don't feel all that guilty about those two things anymore, because the delightful Dick Grayson has taught you just how far you're willing to go for vengeance. Yes?" Lex folds the pita and begins to eat. 

"I... something like that, yes." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. 

Bruce hums and scratches at his stubble. "I suppose I am hedging my bets to a certain extent. All right, Lex. I won't fight you on this." 

"And there you go being *agreeable* again --" 

"I have a confession to make." 

Lex again pauses with food only inches from his mouth -- but then he gestures 'go on' and eats anyway. 

"I believe I'm going to be working with Kent more in the future." 

An artery begins throbbing in Lex's forehead. 

"Lex..." 

Another 'go on' gesture. 

"All right. He seems to have been -- much like you -- having a relationship with me... without me. It seems to be the --" 

"And that's *enough* for you? Why are you *easy*?" 

"It's a lot less lonely than the alternative." 

"He's -- too liberal for you? You *said* that --" 

"Yes, I did. But then... I had a very interesting and illuminating few days." 

Lex growls *while* chewing. 

Bruce waits -- 

"Wait, your mother was *hitting* on you?" 

Bruce blinks. "Yes...?" 

Lex stares at his sandwich as if it had personally offended him, then eats more of it. 

Bruce waits -- 

"I just -- do you want to have *sex* with him?" 

"I'm not altogether sure about that. I'd definitely like to speak with him more." 

Lex takes another bite and chews almost violently -- 

"And we can definitely speak of other things." 

The artery in Lex's forehead seems to be throbbing more insistently.

Hm. 

Here, try this, the Fox says, and shows him -- 

Oh. "As an example, the Fox is showing me a detailed fantasy I have of you flogging me, then penetrating my rectum with great force." 

Lex turns slowly to look at him. 

Bruce eats another olive and raises an eyebrow. 

Lex chews. 

Bruce swallows. 

Lex swallows -- "You're not aware of your own sexual fantasies. They don't happen consciously." 

"Not very many of them, no. The Fox has suggested that the percentage of fantasies which do occur consciously is quite small." 

"Meaning you have -- when did puberty run up and smack you in the face?" 

"When I was ten." 

"You have twenty years worth of fantasies in there that you don't actually know about." 

"I wasn't always quite so... strict with myself, Lex." 

"Fine, call it ten --" 

"Perhaps fifteen --" 

Lex holds up a finger and eats the last bite of his sandwich. 

Bruce swipes up a few more smears of hummus with pita. "You eat at quite a measured pace --" 

Lex swallows. "It's the only thing which keeps me from heartburn, since people are *always* telling me horrible, horrible things while I'm trying to eat." 

Bruce winces. "I'm sorry." 

"You're forgiven, because I care about you very much and I refuse -- *refuse* -- to be a worse relationship choice than the alien you *used* to want to contain --" 

"I still do want to contain him." 

"It doesn't count if you want to contain him in your *bedroom*." 

Bruce frowns. "I did say I wasn't sure --" 

Lex looks at him. 

Bruce looks back. 

"*Why* did you change your mind?" 

"He was a great help in apprehending Zucco, and he was..." Bruce shakes his head. "We spoke about some of the issues inherent to the lifestyle we live. We have... common ground." 

"And he *likes* you." 

"He certainly seems to. He did an excellent job pretending otherwise, though." 

"*Why*?" 

"Lex." 

"Tell me *why*!" 

"*Lex*." 

Lex growls and crosses his arms over his chest again. "You're keeping secrets for him." 

"It's the same courtesy I'd extend to anyone." 

That artery is -- 

"Lex... if it means that much to you..." 

Lex *snarls* and whirls on him -- "I will *not* make you go against your personal code of *ethics*, Bruce!" 

Bruce blinks. "But -- if it would make you feel better --" 

"Stop being agreeable!" 

"All right. Stop being jealous." 

"It doesn't *work* that way, you *ass*!" 

Bruce raises both eyebrows. 

Lex glares at him. 

Bruce spreads his hands in the hope of making his point. 

"Oh --" Lex snorts and then covers his nose. "But you can, *too* stop being agreeable! You spent all *night* being *disagreeable*! To people who have done *infinitely* fewer evil things than *I* have!" 

He's got a point. 

Yes, but -- "I don't love those people, Lex." 

Lex flinches again. He -- 

"Oh, Lex --" 

Lex gets up and walks out the bedroom door. He leaves his clothes, which is a *good* sign, but -- 

Bruce shakes his head and goes to follow him. He can hear voices -- 

Oh, Alfred is in the kitchen. With *Hope*. Bruce pauses and thinks about leaning in -- 

He can smell Alfred's excellent coffee and a faint undertone of smoke -- 

Had Alfred and Leslie gone to a *bar*? 

Bruce steps closer -- 

" -- see, Miss Terrell, the act of service -- the *vocation* of service -- must... ah... hmm..." 

"I am listening, Mr. Pennyworth." 

"It takesh -- it *takes* the whole of one's being to properly serve one to whom you are... ah..." 

"Devoted." 

"Yes, precishely -- precisely. One must not waver or break." 

"What if the object of one's service wavers or breaks." 

"Then -- then we must seek and strive to bring them *back* to where -- and whom -- they are supposed to *be*." 

"What if that would be damaging to them." 

"Then, dear girl, you must look within yourself, because you may very well find that you are *mistaken* about where and whom the object of service should be." 

"I must consider this deeply." 

"*I* must drink approximately one point five liters of water." 

"Please, allow me." 

Bruce pulls back as silently as he can. He thinks -- 

We owe him. We -- 

Yes. We owe him much. 

We *have* to figure out how to make all of this easier on him, Brucie. 

Agreed. 

For now, though... and the Fox leads him away, and down the hall, and through the dining room -- 

He finds Lex in the sheeted sun room. He's standing near the broadest window -- 

"Are these bulletproof?" 

"All of them, yes." 

Lex nods once. "Put some UV filtering in and I'll be able to use this room during the *day*." 

"Would you wish to?" 

Lex's frown is pained. "I don't want to live with you." 

"I... didn't think you did." 

"Not even in Metropolis." 

"All right." 

"Though you could use the sun. I miss that hint of a tan you'd get after spending the summer with Harvey -- don't say anything agreeable." 

"I... hm."

"Are Alfred and Hope getting along?" 

"Swimmingly."

Lex nods again. "No one loves me." 

"Lex." 

"Except for *you*, all right?" Lex growls and begins to pace. "I don't know how to deal with this." 

"You could consider allowing it to happen." 

"As if I could *stop* you -- except that I'm terrified of doing just that. I --" Lex shakes his head and goes back to the window. 

"May I join you?" 

"I reserve the right to snap, snarl, growl, and/or run away." 

"Noted." 

Lex gestures him close -- 

And Bruce doesn't stop until he can feel Lex's chest against his own, until he can cup Lex's face and nuzzle his mouth -- 

"Fuck -- you --" 

"Should I shave?" 

"I -- only if we're going to spend a significant amount of time kissing -- what do you *do* when you're on the street long enough for your stubble to start coming in, you giant bear?" 

"I carry shaving cream and a razor in one of my pockets." 

"You don't *have* -- oh, the sash hides a true belt?" 

"It *is* a true belt. The pockets are on the inside." 

"You madman, I -- it's not that my Virtues are completely indifferent to me." 

"I do believe they care for you." 

"Yes. As much, in Hope's and Mercy's cases, as they're capable of doing anything of the kind. Prudence..." Lex frowns. 

"She seemed quite taken with you." 

"I'm afraid she hoped for the opportunity to commit a great deal more mayhem. She might leave me." 

"Oh... dear." 

"Yes, I'm *aware* that would immediately put her on *your* radar, and then I'll be *conflicted* -- I don't suppose I could convince you to let her go out in a blaze of glory? As literally as possible?" 

"I... do try to avoid that sort of thing, Lex." 

"Yes, yes, I know. Oliver *Queen* doesn't." 

"You're not dating him." 

"'Dating'. Is that what we're doing?" 

Bruce kisses Lex softly, careful of his own stubble -- 

Lex makes a low noise and presses closer, makes the kiss much more *firm* -- 

Bruce sweeps in with his tongue and teases, urges -- but Lex is coaxing Bruce's tongue deeper. He -- 

He wants just a little dominance, Brucie. Let's walk the line.

Yes, and Bruce strokes down Lex's left side to his hip, gripping hard and *taking* Lex's mouth with his tongue -- 

Lex shudders and tenses -- 

Relaxes and groans -- 

Tenses *again* -- but doesn't stop kissing, or try to pull back, or -- 

Ask. 

Bruce pulls back *slightly* -- 

"Bruce --" 

"Are you... experimenting?" 

Lex's eyes are closed, and tracking fast behind the lids. His laugh is breathless. "Yes? I... ah." Another laugh, and Lex opens his eyes. "I'll tell you when I need you to use that superheroic control. I promise." 

"Your eyes..." 

"What about them?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "You're often febrile, but now, here... you're holding taut. Over... an edge?" 

"Perhaps a *drop*. Bruce --" 

Bruce kisses Lex again, and again. He backs Lex up against the wall and cups his hips with both hands -- 

He *yanks* Lex's groin against his own -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

"Lex," and Bruce gives Lex another softer kiss, a *wetter* kiss, and, truly, this sort of thing is the Fox's demesne -- 

But it wasn't always, Brucie. 

Yes. 

He gives Lex the kiss which would make Harvey curse most vehemently, dragging his tongue over the edges of Lex's teeth and along his palate -- and Lex lifts one leg and wraps it around Bruce's hip. 

"Bruce, don't." 

Bruce hadn't moved other than to continue kissing. "Lex...?" 

"Don't -- make assumptions? Good king *Wenceslas*, I'm fucked-up. Kindly put your tongue back in my mouth so I don't have to -- *mm* --" 

I'd really like to ask about the Christmas carols. 

Yeah, not the time for it, Brucie. *Stroke* his ass. 

Bruce shoves his tongue *deep* and does it -- 

Lex shudders again and *thrusts* against him -- 

And it takes a great deal of... fortitude not to shove Lex against the wall any harder than he already is, any -- 

Bruce pulls back. "Come to bed with me." 

"Bruce --" 

"Let me make love with you. *To* you." 

Lex grunts -- and scowls. "That should never be *sexy*!" 

"I disagree," Bruce says, turning Lex's head and licking over the pulse in Lex's throat --

"Fuck -- you --" Lex takes a ragged breath -- "What do you *want* --" 

"What I can have, Lex. *Everything* I can have." 

Lex pants and shoves his hands into Bruce's hair, tugging and *yanking* until they're kissing again. This kiss is as febrile and wild as Lex's eyes... until Bruce slows it down with deliberate and *firm* care. 

Harder -- 

Yes, and Bruce thrusts in and in and *in* -- 

And Lex whimpers and claws at Bruce's *scalp* -- 

"*Lex*." 

"I'm *sorry* -- fuck, *what*?" 

"Come to bed with me. I want -- I need to taste you again." 

Lex stares at him and pants, and he looks confused and *lost* -- 

"Lex. Please." 

Lex growls and stands on both feet again, shoving Bruce back -- and walking toward the bedrooms. 

Bruce follows, *careful* not to tread on Lex's heels, not to push, not to *rush* -- 

Lex strips off his boxer briefs as soon as he enters Bruce's bedroom, and Bruce does the same, but -- Lex stops there. 

"Lex..." 

Lex stiffens again, and Bruce -- can't. 

He rests a hand at the small of Lex's back and *bites* the back of Lex's neck -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

"Anything you want, Lex." 

"I want -- I don't *know* what I want --" 

Lie -- 

"I believe that's a lie," Bruce says, stroking around to Lex's abdomen and pulling Lex back against him slowly, carefully -- 

Lex *shoves* back against him and pants, throws his head back and *pants* -- 

His throat is *corded* -- 

"Lex... would it be better if I made you relax first?" 

"I haven't the foggiest --- don't wait." 

"Are you --" 

"Listen to me carefully, Bruce: You have *one* chance to do -- to do everything you want to me however you want to do it. I won't protest. I won't -- fuck, you'll probably make me *beg* --" 

"*Lex* --" 

"One. *Chance*!" 

Brucie -- 

Bruce picks Lex up in his arms and *carries* him to the bed, pushing the tray out of their way with an elbow -- 

"Fuck -- *Bruce* --" 

"No protests," Bruce says, laying Lex out and crawling on top of him, pulling him further up the bed and covering him, sliding against him -- 

Lex groans again -- 

"I love your *skin* --" 

"It's very nice, I know, I work --" 

And the rest of that is spoken into Bruce's mouth, which is as it should be, as it must -- 

No, Brucie, more. 

Yes. Yes -- 

Bruce pins Lex's wrists above his head and pulls back to mouth and bite and *suck* Lex's throat -- 

"Bruce -- fuck, *Bruce* --" 

He bites hard -- 

And Lex cries out and bucks beneath him, pants and *shouts* -- 

Bruce bites the other side of Lex's throat --

Only panting this time. 

More, he needs more, Brucie -- 

*Yes*, and -- 

It's not *easy* to make love to Lex's body this way, to bite for every kiss and lick only to *soothe* -- 

To hold Lex's wrists in a *vise* grip while he marks Lex's pale and beautiful *skin* -- 

To *thrust* into Lex's navel again and *again* -- but.

"Bruce -- ohn -- oh, *fuck* --" 

And -- 

"Oh, what -- ow, *science*, do that -- do that again --" 

And -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

That for biting Lex's hip, for *dragging* his teeth along the hollow --

And Lex's scent is strong with interrupted sleep and fresh sweat, stronger than Bruce has ever *smelled* it -- 

We've only *had* one other date with him, Brucie -- 

*Irrelevant*, everything is except for getting that scent in his nose, in his mind. He promises himself the chance to analyze Lex's sweat another time -- 

Perhaps they could do it together -- 

Bruce shivers and squeezes Lex's wrists *hard* before letting them go and gripping Lex's hips again, *lifting* Lex's hips -- 

"So -- *fuck*, Bruce --" 

Bruce growls and swallows Lex's penis -- 

"*Nnh* -- *Bruce* -- " 

Bruce sucks as hard as he can and *makes* Lex fuck his mouth, listening for every grunt, every whimper, every *desperate* cry -- 

Wait, Brucie -- 

*No* -- 

*Listen*. 

"-- no. I need -- Bruce, please, *please* --" 

Bruce pulls back enough to growl -- 

Lex *shoves* back into Bruce's throat -- 

But -- 

"*No* -- oh -- God, Bruce, not just this, not just *this* --" 

Holy shit. I think he's asking for it. 

That's... unlikely. 

It's *Lex*. What else could 'more' be with him?

I. 

*Try* it. 

Bruce pulls back -- 

Bruce licks Lex's shaft and *nibbles* at the meatus -- 

"*Please* --" 

"Lex. I *want* you." 

"Just -- fuck, please, *do* it -- *ah* --" 

Too easy to flip Lex onto his stomach, too -- 

And Lex pushes up on his knees immediately, hangs his head, and -- 

We've been here before, Brucie, but -- 

It's different tonight. It... Bruce shakes his head and spreads Lex wide before kissing him much more roughly than he'd kissed Lex's mouth. He *uses* his stubble, he growls and moans -- 

Lex cries out -- and does it over and over again. The scent of his sweat rises and *spreads*. The tension in his body grows *exponentially* -- 

He's *close*, Brucie -- 

Bruce pulls back and tugs Lex's scrotum *firmly* -- 

And the noise Lex makes is something like a *bark* -- if dogs were inclined toward cursing one's entire ancestry. 

The smile feels savage on Bruce's face, but -- "I need more of you." 

"*Fuck* you, *fuck* you, *fuck* -- *take* more --" 

"I need... to see you move," Bruce says, and *drops* Lex back down onto his stomach before pulling the lubricant from the drawer -- 

Lex's eyes are squeezed shut. 

Lex is clutching at the *sheets* -- 

Bruce shivers and kisses the back of Lex's neck. "Only pleasure. Only love." 

Lex hisses between his teeth -- 

And Bruce knows he's making Lex wait too long, making him need and fear the *unknown* -- 

Bruce shakes his head and spreads Lex again, makes love to his anus as deeply and *hotly* as he can until Lex is moaning again, pushing against the bed -- 

Bruce pulls back and nibbles and sucks Lex's scrotum, which is as smooth as the rest of him, as pale and pink -- 

He sucks hard enough to mark -- 

And Lex groans and beats at the bed. It -- not good enough. Not yet. 

He moves back to Lex's cleft, licking and nuzzling, spreading Lex wider still -- 

And the sound Lex makes for that is wild, *desperate* -- and less so when Bruce begins thrusting with his tongue again. He -- 

It's yet, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes. Bruce slicks two fingers and pushes in with one, feeling the tightness, the lack of *use* -- 

Listening to Lex's panting breaths, his *soft* cries -- 

"My love..." 

"Bruce. *Bruce* --" 

"Pleasure," Bruce says, and crooks his finger *carefully* -- 

"*Hnh* --" 

"You are... I've dreamed of this for the better part of fifteen years, Lex." 

"Please, fuck, you have to -- I don't --" 

Bruce *strokes* Lex's prostate -- 

"Oh -- *God* --" 

Bruce gasps -- 

"Don't *listen* to me -- don't -- oh, *fuck* --" 

"You like this..." 

"You knew. You knew I *would*." 

Bruce shakes his head and -- shakes. "Lex. Your pleasure. The flush of your skin. The sound of your *cries*," and Bruce crooks his finger again -- 

And Lex *shouts*, thrusting back and forward again -- 

*Again* -- 

"Bruce. Bruce, you -- don't fucking *tease* -- " 

"Lex --" 

"*Please*," and he starts to push himself up onto his hands -- 

Bruce shoves him back down and *grips* the back of his neck -- 

"Oh my --" Lex growls and clenches *hard* -- 

Shouts again and flexes *open* -- 

And Bruce begins to thrust, slow and hard and *steady*, dragging his finger against Lex's prostate as much as possible -- 

He wants. He *wants* -- 

Lex groans -- 

Lex shudders all *over* -- 

And then Lex goes limp, working. Working his hips -- 

Oh, Jesus, what a *view* -- 

The feel. The -- 

Tell him. Just *tell* him -- 

"Lex. The feel of you..." 

Lex nods -- *tries* to nod -- 

"So. So smooth. So hot and *tight* --" 

Lex sucks in a breath -- 

It's almost a *sob* -- 

"Lex, *tell* me --" 

"More," Lex says, and his voice is small, *low* -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"*More* -- oh -- *Bruce* --" 

Two fingers makes Bruce feel huge and monstrous, makes -- 

Lex's anus is so *stretched* -- 

Lex is panting and *whining* -- 

Is this. Is this a mistake? 

I -- fuck. I can't tell. Move the hand on his neck -- 

Bruce strokes down to the space between Lex's shoulder blades and tries to stroke soothingly, *encouragingly* -- 

Lex shouts and shudders -- 

Shouts again and *scrambles* up onto his hands and knees, crying out for every motion, every *shift* -- 

"Lex --" 

Another *cry* -- and Lex works himself back and *back* -- 

Lex shouts and claws at the sheets -- 

Lex shouts and *shudders* more -- 

God, that's -- 

Beautiful. 

Don't even *think* about leaving him hanging -- 

No, and Bruce grips Lex's hip with his free hand and leans in to lick around Lex's anus, to kiss and *attempt* to delve with more than just his fingers -- 

"N-no. Bruce. Just -- your *fingers* --" 

Bruce growls and bites Lex's buttock -- 

"*Fuck* -- do what you *want* --" 

"I *am*," and Bruce *guides* the motion of Lex's hips, making the motions longer, more fluid -- 

A cry seems to *fall* out of Lex's mouth and his skin flushes more deeply, his sweat -- 

Bruce licks the base of Lex's spine, and his buttock, and his own fingers --"*Lex*." 

"*Please* -- please just make me *come* --" 

Bruce grunts and twitches helplessly, mind *filling* with the image of replacing his fingers with his penis -- 

We *can't*, Brucie -- 

No, I know -- not this time. 

Just -- 

This, and Bruce thrusts faster, squeezes Lex's hip to urge stillness -- 

He can hear Lex's sweat pattering on the sheets between cries -- 

He can see the needy *twitch* of Lex's penis -- 

He must -- 

He must, and so he releases Lex's hip and takes his penis in hand -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

He squeezes and strokes, he thrusts and *rubs* -- 

"What -- what you're *doing* to me --" 

"I *love* you --" 

"It's not -- you're *not* --" 

"Lex. *Give in*." 

And the sound *starts* as a growl, but it gets louder, *rounder* and louder until it's a scream, a keen -- 

Bruce strokes *faster* -- "*Do* it, Lex --" 

"No, oh -- *hn* -- *hnh* -- *fuck* me --" 

"*Yes*," and Bruce ignores the part of himself which wants to be *sucking* Lex while he does this, because it also wants to be kissing Lex, and sucking Lex's *toes* -- 

Another scream -- 

And Lex clenches *painfully* hard and begins to ejaculate. He -- 

"I want your *eyes*, Lex --" 

And Lex's laughter is, perhaps, no more cracked and *desperate* than it should be. It makes Bruce shiver. It makes Bruce *need* -- and so he only squeezes Lex's penis gently for a *moment* before bringing his sticky hand to his mouth. 

He -- he gives himself over to tasting, to licking and moaning -- 

"Oh... my. Irrelevant emotional bleating." 

Bruce pauses. 

"I can *feel* you raising your eyebrow, Bruce." 

"Hm." 

"I can also feel you in my -- well, I suppose you *are* in my gut. I..." Lex laughs again, and it's softer this time. Sweeter. 

Bruce finishes licking his hand clean and then leans in to lick a stripe up Lex's spine. 

Lex shivers. "I can't -- I can't let you stay in me." 

"All right." 

"Tonight. I mean --" Lex growls and shakes his head. "Pull out." 

"It would be easier if --" 

Lex breathes deeply, if shakily, and Bruce pulls out as slowly as he can justify to himself. "Oh -- are you sure you didn't --" 

"It..." Bruce strokes Lex with his relatively clean hand. "It nearly always feels as though one is losing important parts of one's anatomy." 

"I... already knew that. Damn, I --" 

"Lex, may I... may we..." 

"Please go wash your hands thoroughly, Bruce. I promise to stay *right* here as I remember how to go about not blushing like the proverbial schoolgirl." 

"The Fox has met some remarkably jaded schoolgirls --" 

"Bruce." 

Bruce kisses the base of his spine. "I'll be right back."

He forces himself to work somewhat inefficiently, taking a full two minutes to wash before moving *slowly* back into the bedroom -- 

To find Lex lying on his side grazing idly from the tray, whose contents have been somewhat jumbled by the... commotion, but which remains in good shape. 

"How hungry are you?" 

Lex turns to smile *hotly* at him -- 

"Lex..." 

"How hungry are *you*, Bruce?" 

Bruce grips himself and squeezes hard -- 

And Lex licks his lips. "Yes, I see. *Do* come here." 

"We can -- we can pause. And --" 

"Cuddle? Share difficult yet warm truths? Make out like cock-drunk teenagers?" 

"All of the above. And more." 

Lex turns over onto his back, resting on his elbows -- and his eyes widen dramatically and somewhat comically. 

"You weren't expecting that." 

"Amazingly enough... no. Sweet dancing soap bubbles, what the hell does that feel like when there's *come*?"

"Somewhat distressing, if satisfying." Bruce nods to the tray. "May I?" 

Lex pops another olive in his mouth and gestures at Bruce to take it away. 

Bruce sets the tray on the floor and crawls into bed with Lex, cupping his face and trying to memorize every nuance of his sardonic smile. Because -- "I don't know when you'll let us have that again." 

Lex closes his eyes, and this smile seems much more brittle. "Call it... soon." 

"Yes?" 

"Certainly -- certainly sooner than I want to admit to right now." And there's a rueful smile in Lex's eyes when he opens them again. 

"You know there's nothing --" 

Lex holds up a hand. "Intellectually, I'm as sex-positive as Dr. Boothe Osthemmer with -- one hopes -- a good bit more stamina. Emotionally... emotionally, I am, occasionally, still the boy with Lionel Luthor for a father. The boy who *played* gay in order to, in part, *worry* him." 

Bruce frowns and nods. "I'm not sure what I would've done if my parents hadn't been so... accepting." 

"Didn't you only *just* come out to your mother?" 

"Yes, but..." Bruce strokes Lex's cheek with his thumb. "My parents wrote a letter to me while I was at Exeter explaining to me that there was nothing wrong with being a homosexual. The letter cited various studies." 

Lex snorts. "I -- hm. Had you *asked* about it?"

"I *want* to say that no, I hadn't, but... in retrospect, it must have seemed telling to them that my prior *three* letters had been mostly about Harvey." 

Lex's expression is -- fondly amused. "You came out to your mother *because* she finally asked you if you had a boyfriend, didn't you?" 

Bruce opens his mouth -- closes it and hums. "She was deeply surprised by the fact that I'm *not* entirely homosexual. I -- hm." Bruce considers -- 

Oh... Jesus. Didn't think about that angle. 

No, we did not, Fox. 

That -- uh. I think we should keep not thinking about it. 

But -- 

Water under the bridge, Brucie. We *can't* change the past -- and we shouldn't even if we could. 

I... I miss her, Fox. 

I know, Brucie, but... and the Fox turns Bruce's head enough that he can see Lex's face, Lex's expression of curiosity and careful sympathy, Lex's swollen mouth and the rising bruises on his throat. 

Oh... yes. Bruce cups the back of Lex's head carefully and pulls him in for a soft kiss -- the softest kiss he can manage while being this aroused. 

Lex rolls on top of him and cups Bruce's *face*, darting in for shallow kisses which won't give him -- more -- stubble-burn -- 

"I really -- I should shave --" 

"You should let me make you come," Lex says, and licks Bruce's mouth. 

Bruce shivers and arches up. "If I could. If I could simply feel you --" 

"I'm sorry, darling, but frottage at the moment would fill my mind with *highly* unrealistic and traumatic ideas about what my body wants *your* body to do." 

Bruce grunts -- "Lex." 

The light in Lex's eyes is bright and *sharp* -- "Does he give you pointers, Bruce? Tell you what to do when?" 

"Yes --" 

"A threesome *every* time?" 

"*Yes* --" 

"You don't. You can't possibly know how much I want you," Lex says, kneeling up over Bruce's hips and taking Bruce's penis in both hands -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"Look at you. Do you know how ridiculous it is to *want* something like this in your ass?" 

"Please. I -- please." 

Lex smiles wryly and begins to stroke. "You'd break me, Bruce." 

"Please. Please, I can be -- gentle --" 

"But I wouldn't want you to be. I'd want..." Lex licks his lips and *squeezes* -- 

"*Please* --" 

"You'd break me *emotionally*, Bruce. You'd make me beg with every *breath*. You'd make me cry out and scream and -- maybe -- cry. A little --" 

"I would -- taste every *tear* --" 

Lex shudders. "I know you would. You would make sweet, *sweet* love to me and make me *love* it." 

"That -- sounds like an *accusation* --" 

"Because it *is*, you -- utterly delightful crazy person," and *this* smile -- 

It's only pained because of lack of practice. 

Yes -- 

It's -- hot as hell, actually. 

*Yes*, and it's all Bruce can do not to arch or buck or -- 

He writhes for it, and for the *power* in Lex's hands -- they're as strong as Harvey's were at the peak of his athleticism, if perhaps not so strong as Dinah's -- 

"Lex..." 

"You don't know how much --" Lex growls and shakes his head violently. "I said that -- *implied* that -- already --" 

"*Please*, Lex --" 

"How is this *easy* for you?" 

"I --" 

"And if you say something about *loving* me again -- I." Another head-shake, and Lex turns his hand to *scratch* Bruce's penis -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"The problem. The problem is that I'm faced with the *horrifically* distressing knowledge that I could've had this *years* ago --" 

"*Yes* --" 

"Maybe even *while* you were still screwing Harvey, because you're something of a *slut* --" 

"Please, Lex --" 

"Oh -- don't take that the wrong way," Lex says, and starts stroking Bruce hard and *fast*. 

"Please. Please --" 

"*I'm* a slut. I'm -- an absolute -- rest ye merry *gentlemen*, I need you," and Lex scrambles back and bends down -- 

*Takes* Bruce in -- 

One gulp after another -- 

Lex's *eyes* are rolling back, and the only reason Bruce can *see* that is because the Fox is keeping *his* eyes from doing the same thing --

Lex pulls off and groans -- "*Fuck*." 

"Lex. Lex, please --" 

"Touch me. Just -- don't *bruise* my head but --" And Lex grunts for the feel of Bruce cupping the back of his head. He -- "Pull me." 

"Are you --" 

"*Do* it -- oh -- fuck. Fuck. *Mm* --" 

Slow. Slow seemed *better*, but this -- 

And the Fox fills his mind with a fantasy from -- 

Bruce couldn't have been older than *fifteen*, judging by the look of the dorm room he's in with Lex, by the look of Lex's *lean* body -- 

Almost -- 

Almost *willowy* -- 

And Bruce can't hear the words his younger self is saying in the fantasy -- 

It would be too distracting, Brucie. You were *punishing* him, you see. 

Oh, my. Oh -- 

But even for punishment he's being gentle with Lex, stroking his bare head, his flushed cheeks -- 

Stroking the way he's doing right *now*, only the Lex on his *bed* doesn't have his legs crossed at the ankles, and his body is rangy and perfect. His *hands* are perfect, stroking and squeezing Bruce's thighs and hips, scratching at the hair on his abdomen -- 

"*Lex*..." 

Lex *nods* and begins working himself on Bruce's penis, *fucking* himself -- 

Bruce groans and can't keep himself from tossing his head -- 

No, Brucie, *watch* -- 

It feels -- "You feel so *perfect* --" 

Lex hums what's probably a *laugh* -- and needing to see the light in Lex's eyes allows Bruce to sit up on his elbows, to open his eyes and see --

Oh, every *motion*. Every gulping *swallow* -- 

"Please, Lex. Please don't *stop* -- *nnh* --" And grunting for the *sharply* focused look in Lex's eyes is only reasonable, only another kind of *perfection* -- 

He doesn't -- 

"I *need* you, Lex!" 

Lex shudders and moves his hands, wrapping one around Bruce's scrotum and the other around the base of his penis -- 

"Oh -- oh, *Lex* --" 

Stroking. 

Squeezing. 

Sucking and -- and *scraping*, and Bruce tries to tell Lex yes, tries to beg him for *more*, but the words don't come. All he can do is groan and cry out, arch and claw at the *sheets*. 

Lex pulls back until just the head is in his mouth and slurs -- something. Something low and fervent, something -- obscene? 

I think that's an *excellent* guess, Brucie. 

He -- 

Yeah. Yeah -- 

And Bruce's hands are shaking now, *trembling*, and the only thing which eases them is to clutch Lex's head again, stroke and *touch* -- 

Lex *glares* into his eyes -- but doesn't shake his head. 

Doesn't look *away* --

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut -- 

No! 

Bruce grunts and opens his eyes -- and thrusts. Once --

Lex moans and moves the hand from around the base immediately, gesturing -- 

A come-on. 

A -- 

Bruce opens his mouth to say Lex's *name*, but even that's beyond him. Even -- 

He *wants* you to fuck him.

Us. He wants -- 

*Mostly* you, Brucie -- 

Fox, I -- it's more, it's so much -- 

Yeah, you can feel it in your spine. In your hands. *In* your cock -- 

Need. So much -- 

He's staring, Brucie. *Impatiently*. 

Bruce grunts and can't keep himself from tossing his head -- and can't keep himself from tightening his grip even more when Lex starts to pull away -- 

He *spasms* when Lex hums in *amusement* -- 

Give it to him, Brucie. Show him what it means to make *you* need. 

"*Lex* --" And it's such a shock to speak that he cuts himself off with another groan immediately, that he thrusts by *accident* -- 

Lex *gulps* around him, eyes widening -- 

Bruce pulls him *closer* -- 

And the sounds are rhythmic and chopped, his -- he's grunting like a *beast*, and Lex's skin is so soft, so *delicate* -- 

He can take this. 

Yes. Yes, he's -- 

Strong. And hungry. 

"*Lex*, I -- *yes* --" 

And Lex's hands are on Bruce's hips again, Lex's nails are digging in against his *flesh* -- 

Lex's head is almost hidden from *view* because of Bruce's hands. He's big, too big -- 

Just right, Brucie. Feel... feel those hands sweating.

Mine -- 

*His*. 

Bruce whimpers and cries out, wants -- but he's already inside Lex, already *taking*, and his mouth is soft, hot and *wet* -- 

He is *salivating* -- 

Needs you *that* bad -- 

And I -- I *him* -- 

Give it up. Just -- 

Fill. Fill him -- 

*Spill* -- 

He wants more, he wants -- 

You can't even *see* him anymore, Brucie -- 

I can *feel*. His -- his hands -- 

Movin' back to our ass -- 

Spreading me. Spreading me wide -- 

And Lex is stretching Bruce, holding him *open*, and every thrust now leaves Bruce feeling *exposed* -- 

Laid out. 

*Open* -- 

And Bruce means to beg again, but a moan takes the word halfway through, leaving him desperate and *driving* in, thrust after thrust -- 

Lex *fumbles* at Bruce's anus -- 

Not for -- 

Long -- oh. Fingers. So -- 

The *burn* -- 

Bruce cries out and clenches, needing more and getting heat, a fire behind his eyes and everything light, something -- something like the *promise* of Metropolis in the moments before his eyes fly open, and he ejaculates -- 

And shakes -- 

And ejaculates *more* -- 

And *shudders* for Lex's humming moan. He -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"Mm-hmm..." 

Bruce drops onto his back -- and cries out for the feel of Lex shoving his fingers *deeper* -- "You -- *please* --" 

Lex pulls off and licks his *dangerously* swollen lips, drags the back of his hand over his reddened lips and cheeks -- "Your expression tells me I'm not chairing any board meetings today." 

"You... could start a fashion?" 

"Every *day*, darling, but -- no. I have no problem whatsoever with my desire to, from time to time, suck you off. I have *every* problem with *looking* like I have no problem with that." Lex smiles. "In public, anyway." 

Bruce nods and -- breathes. "Lex." 

"Oh... yes?" 

"It's been three years since I've been penetrated with a penis." 

"Three -- well. I feel *strongly* that that *shouldn't* sound like *forever*. Oh, Bruce. You *have* to realize I won't be like Harvey --" 

"I don't *want* you to be --" 

"Yes, I know, I still had to say it," Lex says, and cocks his head to the side. "How rough do you like it?" 

"Exceedingly... sometimes." 

"Tonight?" 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "I don't know. I *won't* know... until." 

Lex parts his lips -- and crooks his fingers. 

Bruce groans and arches again, penis twitching -- 

"Is your stamina *always* this impressive?" 

"I... lead a healthy life?" 

Lex snorts and starts *rubbing* Bruce's prostate.

"Lex. Lex, please --" 

"Oh, don't worry, darling. I am *absolutely* going to fuck you --" 

"*Thank* you." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "You should've mentioned needing this this much *before*." 

"I --" Bruce shakes his head and strokes down his own body, up his chest -- 

"Pinch your nipples." 

Bruce grunts and does it -- 

"Tell me *why* you didn't say anything." 

"You were... I needed your pleasure more." 

"Did you think you wouldn't *get* it --" 

"*Lex* --" 

"Pinch *harder*," Lex says, and starts to thrust, starts to -- 

"So. Rough. I --" Bruce pinches and *twists* --

"Tell me, Bruce." 

Bruce feels himself breaking out in fresh sweat, feels his eyes *rolling* behind the lids, and -- 

That clench. That *fist*. 

Right -- right in my spine -- 

And low in the *gut* -- 

Lex wants *control* -- 

So let him have it... 

"Lex, *please* --" 

"Tell me... or I'll make you wait even longer." 

Bruce pants -- *focuses* -- 

Tries to focus on more than just Lex's *moving* fingers and the growing pain in his nipples -- 

Bruce is still *twisting* -- and he needs to speak. "The idea. The -- *desire* --" Bruce licks his lips and shakes his head -- 

"'The desire'...? To have me on my hands and knees?" 

"To *have* you, Lex, to touch you and make you lose *control* --" 

"For you..." 

Bruce growls and spreads his legs wider -- 

"You are... hmm. Any chance of getting Gilda to sculpt you?" 

"I -- I believe I would wind up being very honest with her." 

Lex snorts again and rests his free hand low on Bruce's abdomen, pressing down. "She's a smart woman, and so undoubtedly *knows* that. Breathe." 

Bruce does, making it slow, making it *measured* -- 

And Lex pulls out. "You have to know that that kind of control is *enraging*, darling." 

Bruce laughs and rolls his head on the pillow. "Please, feel *free* to take it out on me." 

"Did you mean it about the flogging?" 

"I have --" 

"Don't finish that sentence," Lex says, and laughs somewhat breathlessly. "Finish the sentence that starts with 'Harvey and I did that every...'" 

Bruce licks his lips and *claws* over his own nipples -- 

"Very pretty." 

"Thank you --" 

"Answer," and Lex slicks his fingers generously, *heavily*. 

"Harvey doesn't enjoy anything but the lightest sorts of violence. Even controlled, sexualized violence." 

Lex nods thoughtfully. "That's a shame, with someone like *you*... hm. And going from what I know about his issues... that violence has to be directed at *him*, yes?" 

("I tried to *hit* you --")

Bruce nods once. 

"And this... is something you don't want to discuss with me," Lex says, and smiles sharply. "That's all right, darling. I'm *far* too cheerful to be *egregiously* jealous," and he pushes in with two fingers again -- 

Bruce groans and *grips* the sheets. "Please. It's already --" 

"You... aren't entirely smooth inside. Who else has been diddling you? Selina?" 

"Dinah --" 

"Is she as much of a pervert as you deserve?" 

Bruce smiles *helplessly* -- 

Lex laughs again. "I'll take that as a yes. She grew *up* in that community, and -- yes. You did tell me her whole life is there already. I *will* catch up. Plant your feet." 

"Yes, Lex --" 

"Don't -- oh, dear. I appear to have an issue here," Lex says, and his tone is light, but he's not meeting Bruce's eyes anymore. 

"Should I *not* plant my feet...?" 

This laugh is a cough -- "Don't be my property." 

"Lex...?" 

Lex looks up again, and his smile is wry. "You heard me." 

Bruce frowns and sits up -- 

"And absolutely don't stop being this flexible and *strong*," Lex says, and scratches idly at Bruce's abdomen with his free hand -- 

"Lex. You don't own me." 

"I know that -- no. Who does own you?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "A rather terrifyingly large part of me is still -- only -- focused on getting Dick Grayson out of whatever group home he was shoved into tonight. And I believe you know --" 

"Constance, yes." Lex frowns. "Is this healthy? What are good parents actually *like*?" 

"I think --" 

"Oh, shut up, Bruce, *you* have no *idea*." 

"Hm." 

"I can't believe she --" Lex cuts himself off with a headshake. "I can live with you being owned by your son-to-be -- "

Bruce feels himself blanch -- 

And Lex *chokes* on a laugh. 

"No, I... suppose I didn't think that through." 

Lex pats his cheek. "There, there, darling, you can scream it out while I'm reaming you." 

"About that..." 

"Moan. Groan. Scream. Shout. Curse, if the Fox can't stay quiet. Don't 'yes, Lex' at me unless you absolutely must. You're not my property." 

The Fox grins. "And I'm not all that virtuous, either." 

Lex bites the tip of his pink tongue and smiles like a corruption in *progress*, which, as far as the Fox is concerned, is *exactly* how he should look. 

"Whaddaya say, Lexie? Wanna put me in my place...?" 

"I won't say I've *never* had the fantasy of dressing Bruce up in ridiculous clothes and introducing him to buggery, but --" 

"Still Brucie, I hear you," and the Fox sighs. "I'm still the one who *got* you here tonight." 

"And you want to be compensated, Fox...?" 

"I *promise* I'm a cheap date, Lexie." 

And Lex -- starts to thrust. Slow and hard and *harder*. He's smiling again -- 

And the Fox can feel himself flushing for it, feel himself knowing how much better this would feel on his back, on his *knees* -- "Please..." 

"Please what?" 

The Fox lets his eyes slip closed and starts to rock for it, to *urge* -- 

"Faster, Fox." 

"Yeah, yeah, I can -- just --" 

"Tell me what you need." 

"Push me. Just -- and *remember* I'm in this body, too --" 

"I couldn't forget, *alternate* darling," and Lex *shoves* the Fox down onto his back -- "Plant. Your. *Feet*." 

The Fox grunts and does it, reaching up and back to grip the headboard with one hand and his dick with the other -- 

"Beg." 

"Please, Lex, please fuck me, please fucking *do* me --" 

"Did Harvey ever --" 

"He'd sound just *like* this, Lex --" 

Lex shudders and *pants*. "Bruce. *Now*." 

The Fox blows Lexie a kiss and sinks -- 

And Bruce surges up with a groan, gripping the headboard hard enough to make it creak. "*Lex* --" 

"You need to *leash* the Fox, darling. He lets too many things *slip*." 

"Harvey -- Harvey *asked* me to complain about him --" 

"He *knew* you were going to call me?" 

Oops -- 

No, I -- Bruce laughs and raises his eyebrows at Lex. "He needed to know I'd be taken *care* of tonight, Lex." 

Lex's jaw drops -- 

His eyes *flare* -- 

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget at least one of your *names*." 

Tell him -- 

"The Fox wants you to know -- *nnh* --" 

Lex straightens his fingers again and thrusts faster -- 

"Please --"

"The Fox wants me to know -- no, *give* him to me --" 

"*Any* time you want, Lexie, ooh, Brucie loves it when you spread your fingers -- *hah* --" 

"You love it, too." 

"Spreadin' me open, makin' me take it -- oh, *yeah* --" 

"My hand right here," and Lex curls his fingernails in against the Fox's abdomen -- 

"More power. More *control* --" 

"As though I'm holding you down," Lex says, and nods thoughtfully again. "Yes, I see. Now tell me what I need to know." 

Well. "I've never been fucked before, Lexie..." 

Lex grunts and thrusts *hard* -- 

"*Fuck* -- nnh. I'm a virgin." 

"No -- that --" 

The Fox grins and raises his eyebrows. "I've *never* taken it. Never -- never had that *gift* --" 

"You manipulative *cock* --" And Lex growls and gives him *three* fingers -- 

The Fox shouts and squeezes himself *hard* -- 

"*Take* it --" 

"Yeah -- oh, fuck, *yeah* --" 

"You're going to. You're going to *come*, Fox --" 

"*Please* --" 

"And you're going to *share* the experience with your --" 

"Brother, he's my brother --" 

"You're *psychotic* --" 

"He said it first!" 

Lex snorts and crooks all *three* fingers -- 

And the Fox hears himself *bellow* for it. He -- he *has* to let go of the headboard because he needs to beat the bed, claw at it, *shout* -- 

"Oh -- good boy..." 

"*Lex* --" 

"Are you ready for my cock yet, Fox...?" 

"Yeah -- fuck, *yeah* --" 

"You can't have it." 

"*Jesus* -- please, please let me --" 

Lex shakes his head and covers the Fox's working hand, forcing him to squeeze his dick *harder* -- 

"Oh, *fuck* --" 

"Listening to *that*... in that voice... well. It's *bracing* --" 

"I'm *sorry* --" 

"Are you?" 

The Fox groans and tries to get Lex deeper, thicker, *more* --

"Be *still*." 

The Fox cries out -- "*Please*!" 

"Are you *sorry*?" 

"I don't -- this isn't even my *scene* --" 

"Isn't it?" 

The Fox laughs and rolls his head, pumps his hips -- no. He can hold still and -- 

And *shout*, because Lex just slapped the *head* of his dick -- 

*Again* -- 

"Fucking *hell*, Lexie --" 

"What is Bruce thinking?" 

The Fox looks -- "He's jerking off and sucking the fingers of his other hand." 

"Jerking -- isn't he -- all right, I'm going to save that question until after I've spent at least an hour thinking of something other than fucking you *mindless*." 

"You -- you *do* that, Lexie --" 

"You love this." 

"Feels like -- " The Fox shakes his head and smiles desperately, happily -- "Hurts so *good*, Daddy --" 

Lex *chokes* -- "Does Dinah call you that?" 

"Not *yet* --" 

"But she will, I see. Let's see how much noise you can make," Lex says, moving his hand back to the Fox's abdomen and pressing down. Fucking him -- 

So -- 

Fucking -- 

*Hard*. 

There *is* no being quiet for this, or even *talking*. There's just -- just giving it *up* -- 

Working his hips until he remembers that he's not supposed to and then doing it *again* -- 

Beating at the bed and jerking himself hard and *harder* -- 

And yelling, so *much* yelling, and hoping Alfie is drunk enough to forget at least *some* of this -- 

Oh. There are tears in his eyes. It -- 

Lex growls and covers him, kisses him and *licks* his eyes -- 

And backs away too fast for the Fox to make it a *real* kiss -- assuming he *could*. This is too much, it's -- 

The Fox can feel himself flushing and *burning* for it, feel himself *slick* inside, open and soft and *swelling* -- 

And he can't keep himself from clenching -- 

And he's leaking fucking *steadily* -- 

Lex *growls*, clawing the Fox's abdomen, and -- "*Breathe*." 

"Can't -- fuck, Lex, just *hurt* me --" 

Lex pants -- "Is that what you need?" 

"Always -- always more *real* --" And then he's shouting for the feel of Lex pulling out at speed, taking his guts *with* him, making every surface of his skin tingle and *spark* -- 

"Oh, Fox. *Open*." 

"Lex. Lex..." 

"*Now* --" 

The Fox shouts for *that*, too, spreading as wide as he can and flashing on Dick, on his long, strong legs -- 

*No*, Fox, just this -- 

Brucie -- oh, Bruce, it's so -- 

The only way is to surrender -- 

Never -- never -- 

To this, *always* to this -- 

The Fox arches and screams before Lex even *touches* him with the head of his dick, and -- "Don't *wait* --" 

Lex shivers. "That's my line." 

"It's a -- a *good* line, *please*, I have to --" 

"Do you need to give me Bruce again?" 

"No, please, Lex, it's so -- I need to *feel* this --" 

Lex shivers *again* -- "You need to understand Bruce a little better." 

"Yes -- *yeah* --" 

"You need to..." Lex licks his lips. "You need to live in his *skin*." 

"For this, please, for *this* --" 

"Then *take*," and Lex guides himself -- 

"Oh, *God* --" 

He guides himself in -- 

"*Lex* --" 

Deeper and -- 

The Fox groans and *sobs*, because -- 

It doesn't end. It doesn't -- 

He's almost there, Fox -- 

It's so -- 

It's good, and warm -- 

Hot. Hot all over, Brucie -- 

I'm here. 

Please -- 

I'm *here* -- 

And it's *their* legs wrapped around Lex's waist, their skin rubbed raw by sleek smoothness, their mouth crying out again and again -- 

Because Lex isn't pausing or so much as -- 

"Need it, I --" 

"Yes. Yes, you *do*, Fox --" 

"Both of us, it's -- we --" 

Lex gasps and *growls*, leaning forward enough to *grip* their shoulders -- "How does that *work*?" 

They shake their head and try to -- it just comes out a *moan* -- 

Lex is *rocking* in -- 

"Please, we -- sometimes -- *rarely* we --" 

"It happens, yes, I *see*," Lex says, and his smile is triumphant and *wild* -- 

His smile makes them *clutch* with their thighs, makes them moan and *need* -- 

Exactly what they're getting. 

"Lex..." 

"Yes, darlings?" 

Oh -- and blushing for this feels perfect, feels so *right*. Of course Lex knows. Of course Lex *understands* -- 

"It's -- nnh. Entirely all right that you're this *exciting* --" 

"*Please*, Lex --" 

"What's that, darlings? More?" 

They nod, they *clutch* with their thighs -- 

"O holy *night*, you are -- just as ridiculously powerful as you should be. I --" Lex grunts and *grinds* in -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"I want you to know -- to know that I feel *privileged* --" 

"You -- *please* --" 

"I want you to know that you were the best *imaginary* fuck I've ever had -- *hnh* -- yes, clench like that all the *time* --" 

They groan and try to urge more, try to get Lex to take them faster, fuck them *harder* -- 

"Yes, yes, I *do* understand, darlings, you --" Lex groans and tosses his head -- 

And then starts thrusting *brutally* -- 

Over and -- 

"*Lex*!" 

"You -- it was *all right* for you to be that good a fuck --" 

"Anything -- don't *stop* --" 

"-- knew I'd never *have* you --" 

"Lex --" 

"-- knew you'd never -- never give it *up* --" 

They shudder for that, throw their head back -- 

And Lex bites their throat, low and sharp and *vicious* -- 

They flex and *spatter* themselves with pre-come -- 

Lex pulls back and *gasps* again, narrows his eyes and licks his *teeth* -- 

And they have to reach up to touch him, to stroke the flush on his face and chest -- 

"What should I *call* you?" 

They -- they don't know. They shake their head and stroke Lex's mouth, Lex's soft *mouth* -- 

"Darlings, then. *My* darlings, because there's no one -- there's never *been* anyone --" 

They clench and cry out -- 

" -- supposed to be a fantasy, nothing's wrong with *fantasies* --" 

"Lex --" 

"-- supposed to be -- nothing was ever supposed to make me *feel* --" 

"No, Lex --" 

"I'm *grateful*, you freaks -- not that there's anything -- anything *wrong* --" And Lex laughs then, breathless and *high* --"Oh -- oh, you feel --" 

"Good, Lex, *good* --" 

"*Better*. I'll *show* you," and Lex kneels up and pushes their knees up --"Just. Like. *This*," he says, and the rhythm is -- 

The *grind* of it -- 

The snap and *roll* -- 

And they have to stroke themselves faster, *harder* -- 

They have to watch Lex's eyes fill with *dazed* hunger -- 

They have to *feel* this, take every moment and *abase* themselves, *writhe* for every touch -- 

Every -- 

Every sweet moment as *fever* builds, the fire of this in spine and belly and ass and *dick* -- 

Every sweet *fuck* --

"Darlings..." 

They -- they've lost their *words* again -- 

"Darlings. *Come*." 

They throw their head back -- 

They pump and shout for *every* thrust, every rough-hot *stroke* -- 

*Inside* -- 

"*Come*... because I'm going -- to get *rude* --" 

And clenching for that makes them all shout, makes Lex *shove* in until *their* shout is a scream -- 

A blinding *rush* that becomes jagged when Lex doesn't stop, when Lex growls and fucks them like an *animal* -- 

A beast -- 

They -- they're all -- 

And the rush slams through them like a riptide, blinding them to everything but the white-hot pleasure -- 

Their own needy *gasps* -- 

"*Nnh* -- *that's* right, darlings. All. All *over* me --" 

"*Lex* --" 

"*More*!" 

"Lex, we --" And they grunt for the last spurt, moan and try to focus -- 

"*Look* at me, darlings --" 

\-- because Lex needs just that. He -- they tear themselves out of the *fog* of perfect heat and pleasure -- 

They reach and *touch*, smearing Lex's lips with ejaculate, with the come that *belongs* to him -- 

Lex growls and *bites* their fingers -- 

Lex shudders and *stares* -- 

And the fuck is a vicious one, but every wince feels precisely correct, something their body needs as much as Lex needs *this* -- 

"Darlings... my..." 

"Surrender, Lex --" 

"Bruce --" 

"*Give* it to us --" 

"Fox -- *fuck* --" 

"Never stop, never -- *hnh* --" 

And Lex's fingers *bite* into their shoulders with desperate *force* -- 

And Lex *whimpers*, loud and *sweet* -- 

And Lex comes shuddering, thrusting raggedly and crying out -- until he runs out of air and slumps on shaking arms. 

They drop him gently, holding him close and wincing in pleasure for the feel of him slipping part of the way out. 

They kiss his temple and stroke his back. 

They massage him and kiss his *cheek* -- 

"I... am almost here." 

So are they. "Yes, Lex?" 

"Almost... ah. Conscious." 

"Hm." 

"Bruce...?" 

"Almost. One moment," and Bruce looks within at the *jumble* of their bedroom -- 

Breathing in the scent of their *musk* -- 

Brucie, that was -- us and *not* us. 

Yes. I believe so. It demands further thought.

You got that right. But. I need to -- to -- and the Fox shakes his head and sinks, smiling ruefully and closing his eyes -- 

"Mostly..." The Fox's departure leaves him feeling cool and somewhat *lost* -- but only for a moment before he simply feels... right. "And now I'm entirely myself." 

"'Entirely'?" 

"Yes. The Fox seems to require time to... process." 

Lex hums. "I don't believe I've ever felt protective of a personality construct before." 

Bruce laughs softly and kisses Lex's cheek again. "I'm sure he'll be warmed by it." 

"Well, he'd better be. I don't get warm and fuzzy for just *anyone*, darling-singular." 

"Of course not --" 

"And I'm not even remotely too heavy for you, am I." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to believe that Mercy and Prudence complain about that sort of thing?" 

Lex pushes up *on* Bruce's shoulders before shifting to rest on his forearms on Bruce's chest. "Let's just say that they both demand a certain consistency of tone from their Lord and Master." 

"Hm. That doesn't sound especially restful." 

"Sex isn't *supposed* to be restful --" 

"I'm reasonably sure it also shouldn't be actively terrifying, Lex." 

"Darling, you're not allowed to make value judgments like that until you've been one person -- just one -- for at least a year." 

Bruce frowns and strokes Lex's left outer thigh with his right *inner* thigh. He -- 

"Let me guess: you're envisioning a life with a distinct lack of value judgments." 

"I suspect you're less than shocked." 

Lex smiles, eyes narrowing for it slightly -- "How was that?" 

"Exquisite --" 

"Not the fuck, darling, the *merging*." 

"Oh. Hm." Bruce considers -- "I... did not feel like one man." 

"So the plural was correct?" 

Bruce nods. "I felt like two men in one body." 

"And that's... different?" 

"Yes. The Fox's body is quite different from my own much of the time. Even when it *looks* the same." 

Lex narrows his eyes a little more. "He's your twin." 

"I was deeply surprised to see that he didn't have red hair, but... yes. My fraternal twin, perhaps." 

"You don't feel close enough to name him identical?" 

Bruce frowns and strokes down to Lex's hips. "I don't believe it's a matter of closeness." 

"Even identical twins who've been raised together all their lives can be very different people, Bruce." 

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but --" 

"You're not comfortable -- entirely -- with his similarities to you." 

That -- hm. Bruce smiles ruefully. "I have... resisted his urgings to make us one man." 

"Does he still urge?" 

"No. But he does... sacrifice himself. A great deal." 

Lex swivels his hips -- 

Bruce grunts and *clenches* -- 

Lex hisses and *grins* -- 

"Should I comment about *your* stamina?" 

"Darling, if you put me in front of a staircase right now I would fall *up* it. But I'll take the compliment as read." 

Bruce inclines his head. 

"He urges you, now, to denigrate him. To... hmm... negate his personhood, perhaps? Whenever someone starts questioning your sanity too dangerously. Yes?" 

"Yes. It makes me feel... lesser to do it." 

Lex shakes his head and smiles fondly. "It's utterly disgusting how hot I am for your sense of honor." 

"Even when applied in psychologically questionable ways?" 

"*Especially* then, darling." 

"Hm. I believe we'll be something of a wreck should you ever decide you enjoy supervillainy more than the alternative." 

"You could *always* go evil *with* me, darling --" 

"Lex." 

"Money, power, fame, minions --" 

"Moral turpitude. Crushing guilt. Mother's disappointment --" 

Lex grips Bruce's nose between his index and middle fingers and twists. Slightly. 

"Yes, Lex?" 

"Ask Fox when we can work on curing you of... that. Eddie." And Lex moves his hand -- 

And Bruce looks within -- 

And the Fox is 'smoking' a candy cigarette while lounging in a Jacuzzi. There's a television hanging from the fog-shrouded ceiling, and it's showing... Dick. 

Dick tumbling and flipping. Dick smiling and leering. Dick waving and *wanting* -- 

Is that an answer, Fox? 

You're always gonna be in love with her, Brucie. That's how *you're* built. But -- you can be distracted. 

Dick is more than a *distraction*! 

The Fox grins at him and waggles his eyebrows. See what I mean?

Yes, I do. Bruce turns outward again, and finds Lex staring with patient interest. "The Fox seems to think that nothing can be done about the fact that I'm in love with our mother other than guiding me to focus on other, more appropriate relationships." 

Lex's expression is somewhat sour for that -- but he sighs and nods. "Your loyalty is *also* disgustingly attractive, so, really, I have only myself to blame." 

"If you're sure." 

"I gave myself twelve years to stop being sure of you, darling. It has, as of yet, failed to happen." 

"Please do keep me posted." 

"You'll know --" Lex yawns, huge and somewhat all-encompassing. "-- when I do. I think I'm going to pass out on top of you for a little while." 

"I'll endeavor to breathe in a restful manner." 

"You *do* that, darling," and Lex leans in and kisses him softly and warmly -- and turns off the light.


	24. Chapter 24

The Fox wakes him with a kiss on the cheek -- 

And Lex is sitting up beside him in bed, on the telephone with a judge Harvey will be deeply disappointed to know is on Lex's payroll. He won't be the slightest bit surprised about it, though. 

Bruce kisses Lex's hip and goes to shower and shave. 

When he comes out again, Lex has his legs crossed at the ankle and his hands folded on his abdomen. The smile on his face is broad, lazy, and replete. 

Bruce takes a long moment just to watch -- 

To enjoy -- 

To *have* -- "Lex." 

"In approximately one half-hour, Richard John Grayson will be -- officially -- your ward." 

Bruce blinks. "I... hm. I must confess to a certain chagrin about the nature of criminal enterprise and its ability to, as they say, pay." 

Lex's grin is bright and *delighted* -- and he dances his bare feet in a small, tight circle. 

"If I may ask --" 

Lex shakes his head and drums a brief rhythm on his abdomen. 

"Hm." 

"I promise it was only a *little* illegal...? No orphans were harmed in the execution of this childrearing coup...? Trust me...?" 

Bruce smiles wryly. "Noted. What's your schedule for the day?" 

"Well. As much as I'd love to see you try and fail to look sane in front of a boy who has already -- by the reports received -- nearly escaped from psychiatric lockup *twice* --" 

"They put him --" 

"*Some* brilliant mind decided he needed to be on suicide watch. I've never met the boy, but it's abundantly clear to me -- and, perhaps, to the orderlies who dragged him back in the *second* time -- that the boy is far more homicidal than suicidal." 

"Oh, dear." 

Lex waggles his thin, nearly colorless eyebrows twice. "He broke one of their noses." 

Oh, *yeah* -- 

"Really." 

"He also broke *two* of the other orderly's *toes*." 

Brucie -- 

"I believe it's time for me to go get him. *Which* --" 

"St. Sebastian's Children's Hospital. They'll be waiting for you. Possibly with the boy trussed up under the front desk." 

"I have to --" 

"Yes, you *really* do," and Lex cocks his head to the side. "How long am I staying in Gotham, Bruce?" 

Brucie, we have to -- 

We must. We must not be *rude* -- 

Yeah, okay, but I didn't know -- you know what those psych hospitals and the psych wards in regular hospitals are *like* -- 

I do. We must -- Lex has done us a great kindness -- 

And Lex rolls out of bed and closes the distance between them, cupping Bruce's face -- 

Leaning in to *nuzzle* Bruce's face -- 

"What are you wearing for me when you come to Metropolis again?" 

"I -- what would you like?" 

Lex smiles sharply, and his reddened mouth only makes the smile more diabolical. 

"Yes?" 

"I'd *like* to say 'something your mother didn't pick,' but... she has excellent taste." 

"Lex, she no longer chooses my clothes." 

Lex blinks -- "Ah. *Alfred* does." 

"And the Fox."

"*Really*." 

The Fox grins. "Just like Brucie chooses *my* clothes, Lexie." 

Lex searches the Fox's eyes avidly and strokes his cheekbones -- "How are you." 

"*Intriguingly* sore --" 

"How. Are. You." 

The Fox parts his lips -- and lets himself smile softly. "You made me... you made me scream, Lexie." 

"Yes, I did." 

"You made me *need* it." 

"Oh, yes." 

"And -- you made me love it. Every last *second* of it." The Fox smiles more broadly and shakes his head. "To be honest, Lexie, I'm still not quite sure what to *do* with last night." 

"Were you planning to hide from me...?" 

The Fox lifts a hand into view and pinches his first two fingers together. 

"Did you think I would *let* you do that?" 

The Fox pouts. "Don't be like *that* --"

Lex covers the Fox's mouth with two long, strong, mind-destroying fingers. "Don't call me 'Daddy' anymore. I'm your *friend*... and you're my alternate darling. Auxiliary darling...? No, that implies less worth. Alternate darling will have to do for now." 

The Fox nods and stares into Lex's eyes, needing -- and having. He shivers -- 

"Do me a favor." 

"Yeah, Lex?" 

"Wear something you'd *both* approve of." 

That -- the Fox frowns -- 

"Don't worry. I *don't* want you to be just one person." 

The Fox shudders and sinks -- 

And Bruce rises and cups Lex's hand in his own, kissing the fingertips softly. "You want us both to be happy." 

"The Fox can't handle that?" 

"Sometimes... I believe that sometimes he feels both shy and... hmm... afraid of his essential reality." 

Lex squeezes Bruce's hand. "There are comforts to being a construct...?" 

Bruce leans in and nuzzles Lex's ear -- 

"Bruce --" 

"He has... the run of my mind. He knows everything about me -- including all of the things I don't know about myself --" 

Not -- not everything -- 

"Which is not to say that we aren't still capable of surprising ourselves. I believe... I wonder if he will need rest if he becomes... more." 

Lex pulls back and blinks. "The Fox doesn't *rest*?" 

Bruce shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "He watches my dreams. He studies my memories. He finds ways to make himself better and wiser and stronger." 

Lex narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "And he protects you." 

"From everything he can." 

"Meaning it was a *dire* situation that caused him to clue you in about your mother." 

"I --" 

"No, darling, that wasn't a question," and Lex kisses him softly -- 

Lex hums and makes it a *deep* kiss, warm and loving and -- 

Lex pushes a hand into Bruce's hair and *coaxes* Bruce's tongue into his mouth -- 

Okay, so I don't have to have a *single* focus. Fuck his *mouth*, Brucie...

Bruce hums and does just that, stroking down to cups Lex's hips *firmly* -- 

Lex moans and shudders, sucks Bruce's tongue and *shoves* close -- 

Bruce bites Lex's lip -- 

Lex *pants* -- and pulls back. 

"Lex --" 

"Darling -- darling. I..." Lex laughs breathlessly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Lex..." 

"I want -- you to fuck me." 

"Then --" 

"I think. I think I can actually *accept* that," Lex says, and laughs again before staring at him with wildly *calculating* eyes. 

Bruce reaches out to stroke his cheek -- 

"I honestly thought that the only lovers I could ever have, the only lovers who would *work* --" Lex scowls and shakes his head. "I was wrong. Humility is an important virtue." 

"Perhaps even a Virtue?" 

Lex bites his own lip and rocks on his heels. "I believe Humility would wear pasties made out of C4, gold lam spanky pants hiding ribbon blades, and would have replaced her arms with submachine guns. I -- all right, let's leave that thought alone before I *have* to get laid." 

Bruce blinks. 

Yeah, I don't think we're allowed to look stricken for that, considering what we were dreaming last night with Dick and that crossbow. 

A crossbow? Do you really think -- 

I *think* you read too much Tolkien after Mom told you she found the linguistics entertaining. 

It *was* quite -- 

Focus.

" -- that Dick...?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I apparently dreamed about him using a crossbow last night. The Fox feels strongly that this is due to my consumption of high fantasy as a young man." 

Lex crosses his arms over his chest and makes a sour face. "Science fiction is far superior." 

"Certainly it's been fascinating to watch fiction become fact --" 

"No, Bruce, you're supposed to *argue*." 

Bruce frowns and checks -- 

Yeah, pretty much. 

"I... think... you're wrong?" 

Lex bites his lip again, but this time he can't hold back the laugh, and he rocks on his heels again. "Come to Metropolis in a week or whenever you've acquired Constance. Whichever comes first. Please." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I may be... detained --" 

"Fight all the crime you *like*... but don't make me wait. Please." 

Okay, that's *two* -- 

Bruce moans. "Lex. I'll come to you as soon as possible --" 

"No, a week. Which I'm going to spend with Mercy's toys." 

Bruce *grunts* -- 

And Lex... glitters at him. "Get dressed and go acquire your... sidekick? Is that even an accepted term?" 

"I... certainly hope not. Lex --" 

Lex holds up a hand. "Feel free to spend the week thinking about fucking me into a new shape, because that's precisely what I'll be doing." 

"You might... need more than a week --" 

"Very true. *Very* true... but we'd both -- excuse me, *all* -- enjoy your fingers in me again as we got me that much more ready. Wouldn't we?" 

"*Yes*." 

Lex inclines his head. "All right, then. Get dressed, and I'll do the same, and... yes, you'll drive me back to the hotel so as few people as possible see me looking like *this*." 

"Yes, I'd rather have Alfred rest today." 

"*Good* thought. Hope said he was *weaving* on his way to bed." 

Bruce winces -- 

"Yes, darling, put that magnificently thick, throbbing brain to the task of thinking of ways not to drive the poor man insane." 

"An excellent idea," Bruce says and moves to his bureau -- and pauses before looking back at Lex from over his shoulder. 

Lex -- blushes. "I know. I feel... well. I won't say I feel precisely the same, since there is no one on this *planet* like you, but..." Lex waves a hand. "Et cetera." 

Bruce hums. "As you say." 

They dress at speed, but Alfred is still ready with coffee *as* they're tying their ties. He looks somewhat the worse for wear in terms of the pain-related tension showing around his eyes and in the furrows of his brow, but he is absolutely *correct*... and even quite cordial to Lex. 

Lex, for his part, finds that flustering enough that the Windsor he ties is quite crooked, but it's a wonderful excuse to fix it himself while Lex smiles at him wryly and *darkly* at once. 

Lex takes his coffee black, but takes a great and obvious pleasure in the Fox's insistence on three sugars and a surfeit of cream -- 

"I'll remember this," he says, and runs a finger around the rim of Bruce's mug. 

"I'm sure you will." 

"Take a suggestion?" 

"Of course --" 

"Koko Taylor." 

Bruce blinks. "I'm not familiar with... her?" 

Lex grins and finishes his coffee in three humming gulps. "Blues singer who reached the height of her fame and popularity -- so far -- in the late sixties and seventies. She's still going strong. And I know, I know, that's a bit *after* your time... but she has a certain shamelessly *raunchy* sexuality that suits the Fox to a T. I'll send you a selection of her works, since you'd have difficulty getting your hands on *everything* -- I've been collecting her for years. Give her a listen." 

"All right, Lex," and Bruce finishes his own coffee. 

They find Hope in the kitchen rapidly reassembling her guns -- at a small card table Alfred had set up *near* the kitchen table -- and Alfred hands Bruce the keys to the Rolls.

"With my compliments, sir. I trust you will remember that it is *not* a motorbike." 

"As you say, Alfred. I promise to only weave it through *light* traffic." 

Alfred sniffs -- and gives him a warm look. "Master Harvey informed me that the complement of our home would be growing soon...?" 

"Ah... very soon --" 

"*Today*, sir...?" 

Bruce blushes. "Yes, Alfred. Lex has been instrumental in... helping me clear the hurdles between my urge to provide Dick Grayson with a home and my ability to do the same." 

Alfred sighs. "Well, then. I suppose it is a *good* thing that I aired the guest room last night." 

Bruce blinks. "When...?" 

Alfred *twinkles*. "While you were..." He looks to Lex, who is smiling warmly at Hope and stroking her braids. "Out. It seemed the prudent thing to do." 

"I... yes. Yes, it was. Alfred --" 

"We *will* give the young sir the best possible home," Alfred says, and the raising of his *right* eyebrow makes it the sternest possible *order*. 

"Yes, Alfred." 

"Very well then. Do see whether the young sir would prefer to eat out for lunch, as I am afraid we do not yet have the sorts of foods which are designed for a young palate." 

"I always enjoyed your foods as a boy, Alfred --" 

Alfred reaches up and pats Bruce's cheek. "If I recall correctly, you *also* quite enjoyed reading treatises on rare and incurable medical disorders." 

"Yes...?" 

"I... perhaps you will trust me on this matter." 

"Hm. All right, Alfred. Until later."

Alfred inclines his head and they go. 

It barely takes two minutes to get Lex to the Chilton, but Lex has no compunctions about kissing him firmly in the somewhat shadowy and *grim* underground garage. "Don't forget to eat the chocolates, darling." 

"I won't. *Why* did you bring me chocolates?" 

"Because I was too annoyed to buy you a real present before I left Metropolis, and so I was stuck with the hotel gift shop. *None* of the jewelry suited you and none of the scarves suited Fox." 

"Hm. What sorts of presents should I --" 

Lex leans in and nips Bruce's jaw. "We'll discuss it when you call me... tomorrow." 

"All right, Lex --" 

"Remember to be *less* creepy than usual with Dick." 

"That seems like sound advice --" 

"Remember..." Lex smiles and strokes Bruce's lower lip. 

In the backseat, Hope is scanning their perimeter constantly and is very clearly prepared to shoot out the Rolls' windows in the interest of ending the existence of anyone who annoys... them. 

Bruce turns back to Lex and licks his finger. 

Lex narrows his eyes. "Remember who will *always*... have room for *both* of you." 

"I couldn't forget --" 

"No, I suppose you couldn't," Lex says, and stares at him for a long moment, studying and perhaps memorizing -- "Goodbye."

And Hope is out of the car in a heartbeat, opening Lex's door with one hand while tracking the empty garage with the hand holding her gun. Lex steps out and walks for the elevators without a word. Bruce waits until they're inside -- 

And then he drives. 

It's nearly noon when he reaches St. Sebastian's, which means there'll be a long and difficult drive through midday Gotham traffic. Bruce is... 

Bruce is eager. 

The Fox is something else within him, urging and *straining* as Bruce smiles politely at harried administrators and nods professionally at nurses and orderlies and everyone else paraded in front of the Wayne heir -- 

Or perhaps in front of the man willing to take the apparently 'deeply troubled' and 'problematically violent' boy off their hands. 

He is warned explicitly once and *implicitly* three times. 

He is given a list of family therapists which goes on for three pages. 

He is introduced to the orderlies Dick had injured -- the one with the broken nose may possibly require reconstructive surgery. He is assured that the man's insurance will cover it, but no one protests very strongly when he writes both men checks for thirty thousand dollars each. 

Finally -- 

Finally, other orderlies bring Dick out of a bare, *locked* room -- and the shock on his bruised face says they've told him nothing. They -- 

He -- 

Bruce drops into a crouch in front of him and offers his hand, palm up. 

Dick stares at it for a moment with narrowed eyes and rage *deep* in his beautiful blue eyes -- 

In the tension in his narrow shoulders -- 

His lean, *spare* muscle -- 

Dick looks as though he'd lost eight pounds *overnight*. Bruce *doesn't* say anything as insipid as 'it's all right.' He -- he waits. 

He *waits*. 

He takes a deep breath and tries not to shudder, tries not to *fear* -- 

"You here to spring me?" 

Bruce nods once. 

"You're -- are you gonna take me somewhere else?" 

"To my home. *Our* home. Though, first, I would like to take you somewhere to eat." 

Dick bites his lip -- chews on it. 

Dick shudders all over, expression *crumpling* for a moment that *aches* before he seems to pull himself *inside* himself once more. 

"I don't -- if I want a shrink, I'll *tell* you." 

"All right." 

"Mr. Wayne, it's very important that you --" 

Bruce holds up a hand without looking at... gravelly voice, sense of superiority -- yes, that would be the administrator. "Mrs. Speedwell, I believe you'll find that it's very important for Dick to be comfortable and *secure* in his time of grief," he says, and *then* looks at her -- with the Fox's darkest gaze. 

She rears back in a very satisfactory manner. 

Bruce nods and turns back to Dick, offering his hand once more. 

Dick looks at it again -- and then shakes his head. 

It's all Bruce can do not to *groan* -- 

And Dick meets his eyes with panic in his own -- "No, it's -- I'll come with you." 

Bruce *breathes*. 

"I. I just can't. Not right now." 

"All right. That makes perfect objective sense," Bruce says, lowering his hand and standing. "I'm parked right outside." 

Dick bites his lip again and nods -- and then walks briskly and unerringly toward the entrance which he'd undoubtedly only seen while being carried in against his will -- 

The Fox growls within him -- 

Bruce shakes his head once and follows. "Did they drug you?" 

"*Yes*," Dick says, and punches out -- 

The Fox catches his hand before it can impact the wall. 

"Damn it, I *wanted* --" 

"Be *easy*, Dickie," the Fox whispers. "If I can't get you out of here without you bleeding, they might not let me take you, at *all*." 

Dick gasps and stares at him -- 

And the Fox winks. "I have some ideas about how you can work off just a *little* of that rage. I promise." 

Dick stares for a moment longer -- and then nods slowly, licking his lips and tugging until the Fox releases his fist. 

The Fox sinks once more -- 

And Bruce rises to smile ruefully at Dick. "We've been thinking of you very deeply," he says quietly, and gestures for Dick to continue walking. 

"Um. About... what?" 

"About what we might give you. What we might *share* with you." Bruce shakes his head. "You may have what you want of us, Dick -- and I promise to do everything in my power to make sure there's as little as possible of what you *don't* want." 

"What does *that* mean?" 

"It means that if you become ill, there may be terrible-tasting medicine. It means that a balanced diet is important. It means that you must not risk your life without training and hard work." 

"Training -- I." Dick *stares* at him again. 

"One moment," and Bruce leads them through a busy waiting area and tries not to worry about Dick picking up a virus from the older gentleman wheezing and coughing so violently -- 

And, abruptly, Dick breaks into a jog, not stopping until he steps outside and the sunlight on the decorative mica-inset pavement dazzles him. 

"This can't be the safest possible choice for drivers --"

"Bruce..." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

Dick turns back to face him, shading his eyes with his small, callused hand. "Did you want a sidekick?" 

The Fox rises -- "A partner, Dickie. Someone... someone to share the night with." 

"And you're seriously, actually, totally crazy." 

"All the best people say so." 

"And -- you're not gonna stick me in Arkham or somewhere?" 

The Fox grins. "Why, planning on dosing the water supply with a drug that'll turn the whole city into acrobats?" 

Dick snorts *hard* -- but then looks horrified and -- 

"Fuck, Dickie, I'm sorry --" 

"No! No, it's -- I don't wanna cry until we're *away* from here!" 

The Fox nods and gestures Dickie to the right and up the small hill. 

"Oh -- the *Rolls*?" 

"Alfie -- that's Alfred Pennyworth, Brucie's valet -- insisted on it." 

"Okay. Okay, I --" Dick shakes his head and *runs* for the Rolls, and the Fox doesn't get there any slower than he does. 

He opens it up, locks it once they're inside -- and pauses. "Seatbelt, Dickie." 

"Where's *yours*?" And there are tears *under* Dickie's voice, but -- he's keeping them there for now. 

And that's a good question. The Fox smiles ruefully and makes a show of buckling up. "Brucie *always* does this, even when we're riding in the back." 

"So why don't *you*?" 

"Couldn't tell you," and the Fox waits for Dickie to buckle up before starting the car and getting them *out*. "But I almost never drive *anything* but a motorcycle, so that could have something to do with it." 

"Will *I* get to --" 

"When you're big enough and strong enough to control one. I was thinking of building you a smaller one, though. We'll have to see how much use you can get out of it." 

"You know how to *build* motorcycles?" 

"Oh, Dickie. You have no *idea* how many things I can do." 

Dick stares at him again, silent and obviously thinking *something*. 

The Fox wants to stare right back -- 

The Fox wants to touch and *hold* -- 

The *Fox* is not gonna get them into a stupid, painful car accident before -- oh. "What do you want to eat, Dickie? They *can't* have been feeding you halfway decently in that pit." 

"I'm. I'm not hungry," Dickie says, and turns *away*... 

The Fox frowns -- 

This is normal, Fox. 

Yeah, yeah, but -- 

I want to watch him eating things, as well. However. 

The Fox nods. "All right, that's fine. What *do* you want? What can I give you?" 

Dickie laughs. It's not a good laugh even a *little* -- 

"*One* of the things I can give you is me shutting right the hell up." 

Dick *sobs*, covering his face with his hands and pulling his feet up onto the seat -- 

He's so *flexible* -- 

He -- 

"Okay, I can't actually take my eyes off the road, because we're surrounded by taxis and therefore we're *already* taking our lives in our hands --" 

"I'm *okay*!" 

"God, I should've brought some *tissues* --" 

"Just let me *cry*!" 

The Fox hisses between his teeth. "I can do that. I'm -- shutting up now," and the Fox tries to focus on -- 

He drives. He can *do* that. 

And the Fox doesn't try to touch Dickie.

And the Fox doesn't run over the idiot too busy bopping along to his Stalkman to notice that he doesn't have the green anymore. 

And the Fox doesn't try to touch Dickie. 

And the Fox doesn't turn on the radio -- 

Dickie turns on the radio... and spins the dial to the jazz station. 

And the Fox shivers once, all over. "Do I get to ask about that?" 

"Dad likes --" Dickie frowns and shakes his head, then wipes his eyes on his hands and leans over to pop the glove compartment -- tissues. 

"Hey, how 'bout that --" 

"*Everyone* carries tissues in their glove compartment if they have half a *brain*, Fox." 

"I gotta say, Dickie, I mostly keep *weapons* in *my* vehicles' compartments." 

For a second, Dickie looks *excited*, even through the tears -- and then he frowns again and blows his nose. 

For a while. 

The Fox drives and fights down the urge to scat along -- 

And the urge to *dance* -- 

He doesn't try to touch Dickie -- wait. "Dickie..." 

"Yeah?" 

"You don't have to deal with me, at *all*, if you don't want to." 

Dickie turns to look at him again, and the Fox can see that the tip of his gorgeously beaky little nose is red, that his eyes are a little swollen -- 

I want -- 

God, Brucie, me, *too* -- 

"Tell me. Tell me what that means?" 

"It means -- Brucie is right here *in* me, Dickie. All the time. Sometimes he goes to sleep, but I can always wake him right up --" 

"How can he go to sleep while you're *awake*?" 

The Fox stops at a red light and turns to smile ruefully at Dickie. "It helps that we're stone crazy. There are big, interesting words for this kinda thing, and Brucie is ready, willing, and able to teach you *all* about 'em." 

"But you can't?" 

"I can. I *absolutely* can. But..." He lets his smile get a little wider. "I get distracted too easily. Too -- I'm not built for that kind of education." 

Dick nods thoughtfully. "You... came second?" 

"Uh, huh. Brucie's been building me since he was younger than you." 

"*Why*? And -- are there any others?" 

The light turns green and the Fox -- starts up at a nice, legal pace. "It's just the two of us -- as far as we know. Heh. And... he didn't like himself all that much when he was a kid. He didn't understand people much at *all*. And what he did understand is that *most* of them didn't want anything to do with him, because he was too creepy and weird and intellectual -- not that there's anything wrong with that." 

Thank you, Fox. 

You're *welcome*. "Anyway, he started thinking -- he started thinking that he could be 'better' somehow. More clever, more witty, more -- heh -- exciting. And that's how I was born. Things just got... weirder along the way. And now we're brothers more than anything else." 

"In one body." 

"Uh, huh. I know, it's kinda fucked-up --" 

"Who else *knows* how crazy you are?" 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "A fair number of people have a *fair* idea. People like Black Canary and Superman --" 

"I wish." Dickie frowns and clutches at his own knees. "I wish he could come help you find who did this." 

They didn't -- 

"Oh my God. Dickie, Superman and I *caught* the guy! Last *night*." 

"*What*? But -- they didn't --" 

"No one told you --" The Fox growls and beats at the steering wheel twice -- 

Four times. 

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm *so* sorry. I'll tell you everything --" 

"Who *was* he?" 

"Tony Zucco -- a local 'businessman's' nephew-by-marriage. Harry Haly gave such a great description of his face and accent that I was able to get a partial ID almost right away. Once I found out where he was from..." The Fox shakes his head. "Rupert Thorne is a real stain in this town and *one* day I'll bring him down. For now, the fact that he owns such a big chunk of the city helped me out a little. I went to have a chat with him, hurt him and his guards a little -- he gave the little punk right up." 

Dickie is *panting* a little. "And then you called Superman?" 

"First I went over Zucco's apartment with a fine-toothed comb just in case he'd left a better clue than just what he *looked* like. He didn't, so I called Big Blue and gave him the sketch I'd done from Haly's description --" 

"That's right, you *told* me you draw --" 

"Bruce does. I just sketch a little." 

Dickie stares at him more -- 

"Yeah, I know exactly how crazy that sounded," the Fox says, and smiles again. "You'll get used to it, maybe?"

"Uh. Okay? And -- Superman found him? Just like that?" 

"It took him about seven minutes to hunt the bastard down, make him piss himself, and then carry him to Central -- where you can find the *best* cops in this town." 

Dickie scowls. "There *are* no good cops." 

"Hey, now --" 

"My Dad says -- said -- I don't wanna cry anymore!" 

I -- I can't -- 

I'm here, and Bruce rises and reaches out, resting one hand on the armrest between them. "Dick." 

"Oh, God, that's so fucking *creepy* -- sorry --" 

"It's all right. The people I care for most in this world *all* think I'm creepy." 

"That. That kinda sucks, Bruce." 

Bruce laughs softly and drives them past the Chilton. "It's quite all right. They all seem to appreciate it." 

"Still -- um. Um. Why did you come out?" 

"The Fox isn't designed for... comfort. Though that will change, as he longs to help *you*." 

"I'm just. I'm just a kid." 

"Dick... we care for you very much." 

Dick frowns and turns to stare -- at Bruce's hand. 

Bruce keeps it still. "Please, ask." 

"What." His voice is small -- he clears his throat. "What do you want from me? What do I have to do?" 

Bruce frowns. "You need only tell me what you need, or want --" 

"You know what I *mean*. Er. Don't you?" 

Brucie, he's talking about -- 

Oh. "Oh." Bruce blinks and tightens his hand on the wheel. He doesn't move his other hand, at all. "Dick... I will not lie to you about anything if there is *any* way to avoid it. I imagine there could be... some sort of situation which would require a lie for the sake of the mission..." Bruce shakes his head. "I'm sorry. Both the Fox and I desire you greatly, and would welcome anything romantic or sexual -- or both -- you wished to give. But we agreed that we would behave appropriately with you." 

"And... what does that mean?" 

"We will never pressure you in any way, Dick. We will never... attempt to seduce." 

Dick turns away then, and it's tempting to try to see his reflection on the passenger side window, but -- 

Bruce keeps his eyes on the road. "We're almost to our townhouse --" 

"'Our.'"

"Yes, Dick. I am your legal guardian now. I... if you don't like it --" 

"You'll *move*?" 

"It would be somewhat tricky to move the supercomputer --" 

"How rich *are* you?" 

"Hm. Very...?" 

Dick snorts humorlessly. "You'll never be my father." 

A *pang* for that -- but also relief. "As you say." 

"That's it?" 

Bruce frowns and *starts* to reach for Dick again -- "Would you like to go somewhere else first?" 

"I want a hot dog. And. I don't know. I don't want to see your house yet." 

"All right, Dick. There's a park nearby --" 

"That's fine." 

"Would you like to walk?" 

Dick covers his face for a long moment -- "Yeah." 

Bruce swallows and nods, and pulls into the private garage. 

"Where are the Fox's bikes?" 

"If you'll come with me for a moment?" 

Dick scrubs at his face with his hands, pockets several of the tissues -- he'd balled the used ones into his other pocket -- and gets out of the car. 

Bruce follows him, and gestures to the back wall. "There." 

Dick frowns at the wall. "It's... fake?" 

"Very much so. Try it." 

Dick crosses the floor and reaches out -- and through the hologram. "Holy --" 

The Fox grins. "Brucie is *good* with computers." 

"Then so are --" Dick shakes his head. "Never mind. I -- I'm not ready for this either," he says, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Bruce rises once more. "All right. Alfred isn't expecting us, yet, so we can leave --" 

"Yeah. I -- yeah." Dick turns away again. 

Brucie... 

Yes. "Dick... if you ever wish me to leave you alone --" 

The sudden tension in Dick's body is enough to stop Bruce, to *halt* him within himself -- 

"I don't know what I would do if I suffered a loss like your own, Dick. You must understand that every reaction you have, every emotion you *feel* is normal, and comprehensible --" 

"What the hell do you know about it?" And Dick's glare is hot and tinged with so much *hurt* -- 

Bruce shakes his head. "All too little. I have studied any number of psychological treatises on grief, and I have risen to try to provide comfort to the bereaved when the Fox could not. But this... this is new, and terrible. I will do anything to ease this for you, Dick." 

"Then -- you --" Dick frowns and *hits* himself in the eyes with the heels of his hands -- 

And Bruce is there to catch those hands, and squeeze them -- "Dick..." 

"Let me -- *let* me --" 

"If you wish to feel pain, there are other ways." 

Dick gasps and rears back, eyes wild and staring -- 

"I meant -- there are the things the Fox could teach you to *do*," Bruce says, and feels himself blushing -- "I will not -- *we* will not --" 

"I -- heard you the first time. Um." Dick tugs -- 

Bruce releases his hands. "The Fox was quite happy to hear about what you did to those orderlies," Bruce says, and strokes the air near the bruise on his face. "How badly did they hurt you?" 

"They didn't -- they didn't punch me or anything. I managed to get them to drop me, though, and I *almost* got one of them in the balls -- I. I know they were just doing their jobs." 

"I took the liberty of compensating them for their trouble... they never should've brought you to that place." 

"All I said was that I wished I was still with my parents! I -- they didn't have to do that." 

Bruce hesitates -- and then cups Dick's shoulder. 

Dick stiffens and Bruce *starts* to pull away -- but then Dick covers Bruce's hand with his own and shudders. 

"Dick..." 

"I... I." Dick looks down at the floor between them. 

"Please." 

"Do you love your parents, Bruce?" 

Eeeease around that, Brucie. 

"I love my mother very much. More than most people, to be sure. My father... I've recently been forced to admit that I haven't loved him very well, at all." 

Dick looks up for that with a *curious* frown. "Has he loved you?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I believe he has. But... he's very proper. *Correct*. He's not the most affectionate man in the world." 

"Like -- well, *you're* correct." 

"Am I?" 

"I -- hm. Wait, no, I guess not," and Dick's frown turns thoughtful. "You *talk* like you're correct, but you're really not." 

"I think, in some ways, I've been a disappointment to my father." 

"And that has nothing to do with you liking kids, does it." 

Bruce offers a rueful smile. "I never knew before I found myself needing to follow you, and speak with you, and touch your skin... you are beautiful beyond the telling of it, and fascinatingly wild. You are wise and intelligent and amusing. You are... I will wait for you, Dick. Forever, if I must."

Dick shivers again. "I want. Um." 

Bruce raises his eyebrows -- 

"Fuck, I -- " And then Dick is in his arms, lithe and *bright*. His arms are wrapped around Bruce's neck and his legs around Bruce's *waist* -- 

Bruce supports Dick with an arm beneath his buttocks and strokes the back of his head. "Thank you." 

"Not -- not for *you* --" 

"Thank you for allowing me to give something to you." 

The sound Dick makes is trapped between laughter and tears -- 

Bruce holds on.


	25. Chapter 25

The Fox is on time for his meeting with Jim and Harvey, but only barely so. 

He and Dick had never quite made it to the park, but Alfred had purchased fresh-made hot dogs from a small deli Harvey had favored as a teenager, and they had feasted. 

After, Dick had been silent for an hour and a half -- 

But he had clutched at Bruce's shoulder when Bruce had asked if he wished to be alone. 

After that, the Fox invited Dick to help him work out, and Dick had taken to it with skill, grace, *flexibility* -- 

God, it was hard to leave him, Brucie. 

Yes. 

Short patrol tonight, I think.

Yes. 

The Fox lands on the roof of Central to find Harvey staring at him like a stranger and Jim smoking furiously on the edge of the roof. This -- "I think it would be a *bad* idea for us not to be... cool," he says, and raises his hands. 

Harvey stares for another long moment, shaking his head and smiling like someone *stunned* -- 

"*Sugar*-daddy --" 

"Whoa. Whoa. Uh. We really should've talked about how we were gonna *do* this -- Fox." 

The hesitation in Harvey's voice is a *problem*... but it could be more of one. And Jim is still smoking and waiting -- presumably for them to *cope*. 

The Fox shakes his head and makes a pushing motion. "We are who we are, sugar-daddy --" 

"*Please* stop --" 

"-- and we are *where* we are, too," and the Fox raises both eyebrows *pointedly*, tipping his head forward so that the shadows don't hide the motion from Harvey -- 

Who winces. "Fuck. Ah -- *fuck*," and Harvey pushes a hand back through his hair and turns toward the door -- 

He stops and looks back at the Fox with a *pleading* expression -- 

The Fox shakes his head as gently as he *can* -- 

And Jim clears his throat. "You gonna be able to deal with this, Harvey?" His voice is as gruff as it ever *gets* -- 

And Harvey stiffens and focuses. "Yeah, Jim. I'm just -- uh. I needed a minute," and he frowns and *starts* to push his hand through his hair again -- 

He frowns *hard* -- 

And then he pulls on a professional expression that makes Bruce *ache* within him, makes him fill with pride and pain at *once* -- 

This is how it has to be, Brucie. 

For now...? 

For -- yeah. I think so. 

And after another ten seconds of Jimmy giving Harvey the stink-eye -- 

Jimmy nods and turns to him. "I can't fault your results last night, Fox --" 

"But my methods were over the top. I know that, Jimmy. I *don't* plan on getting up to that kinda thing all that often." 

Jimmy gives *him* the stink-eye -- 

And the Fox draws an X over his heart. "Promise." 

Another nod. "Fine. Thorne already knew he was getting nowhere with me through official channels, and you both need to know *exactly* what that means." 

Ah -- hell. 

And Harvey blinks and winces -- and reaches out toward Jimmy with his palm up. 

Jimmy's mustache twitches in a smile the man isn't *quite* admitting to -- and he places a *forty-five* on Harvey's palm. "Try to keep this one from turning into modern art, Harvey. It's got sentimental value." 

Harvey snorts. "Anything you say. I take it we're back to assuming that the Fifteenth is gunning for us?" 

"Not just the Fifteenth, sugar," the Fox says, and lets Bruce shift a *little* ruefully -- 

Harvey nods *gratefully* -- 

"*Anyway*," and the Fox doesn't quite toss the long hair he doesn't have, but it's a near thing. "Thorne has *exactly* enough money to put his hands on damned near anyone, and I'm *pretty* sure that's exactly what he's gonna try." 

Jimmy tilts his head up, blowing a smoke ring and smiling like a shark. "They say his pants won't fit him for at least a week thanks to what *someone* did to his tackle." 

Harvey snickers -- and cuts himself off with a cough. "That's -- terrible." 

The Fox flutters his lashes. "Men are such *brutes*." 

Jimmy's smile gets a little *meaner* for a minute -- 

The Fox *and* Bruce lean *in* a little -- 

Harvey snorts and *then* looks horrified -- 

"*Behave*," Jim says, without looking at either of them. "Fox, will Canary have your back out there?" 

Dinah had called him just before sunset to beg off for tonight, as it had taken the JSA a full twelve hours to fight their way back home -- but. "Starting tomorrow, Jimmy." 

Jimmy frowns -- and then nods. "That'll have to be good enough. I *can't* give you orders --" 

"No, you can't -- much," the Fox says, and leers a little. "But I plan on being just a *little* cautious around the boys and girls in blue for the time being." 

That makes Jimmy *stop* smiling -- but he nods sharply and turns to Harvey. "What can you tell us about your office?" 

"That bitch Carlyle put in for two weeks vacation time starting a week and a half from now," Harvey says, and his eyes are *hot* with anger. "I can't be sure this 'vacation' is meant to be her break, but I know she's noticed getting pushed to the edges of the major cases, and she hasn't even been assigned first chair for so much as a parking violation for months." 

Jimmy winces. "Nothing to be done for it. We just don't have enough *on* her, yet." 

"Maybe the Fox could try to speed things up...?" 

Jimmy winces *harder*. "I *don't* especially wanna sign off on you treating a woman -- even a dirty ADA -- like you treated Thorne, Fox." 

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "But if there's no other way --" 

"How do you do it, Fox? What *lets* you do it?" And Jimmy... is *not* actually speaking to the *Fox*, at all. 

The fact that Harvey has the same question in his eyes -- 

I'm here, and Bruce rises and shifts to a more formal stance. 

"Jesus --" 

"Let him answer the question, Harvey." 

"Right, yeah, shutting up now," and Harvey shudders and covers his *face* for a moment -- 

Which is something Bruce must allow to proceed as it will. "I could say something, at this juncture, about the number of female senseis I've had in my travels. I could also say something about the number of my scars I've gained solely from underestimating people -- male, female, and otherwise. In the end, however, neither of those things are as true as the fact that..." 

Don't say 'I.' 

Of course. "That -- that *part* of me protests every time, no matter how reasonable and ultimately *correct* the path of violence turns out to be." 

"It's never --" Harvey growls and shakes his head. "Ignore that." 

No way he's not thinking about his biological mother. 

The woman who *deserted* him -- 

The woman who saved her own *life*, Brucie --

I can't -- I can't. 

All right, brother. *I'll* do it. You just... focus, for now. 

Yes. And Bruce turns back to Jim. "I do not have to be... brutal. You both know I have the equipment and expertise to bug her home and her telephones. That sort of thing takes time and singular focus --"

"*Do* it," Harvey says, and jabs at the air. "Let's show these fucks we can get them six ways from fucking *Sunday*." 

The Fox rises. "Sugar, it *will* keep me from doing *much* of anything else outside her neighborhood. The technology just isn't that *sophisticated*, yet --" 

"I *know* that. I just -- Jimmy, back me up, here --" 

"How long can you delay her 'vacation'?" 

"She's barely doing anything but *busywork* these days. She *knows* we don't really need her. If I hold her up *too* long --" 

"She might just rabbit anyway," the Fox says, and shakes his head. "How long do you wanna give me to *do* this, Jimmy?" 

Jimmy chews on his mustache -- "You've got three days." 

Harvey winces. "Jim --" 

"*Three days*. *And* he damned well breaks off if something else big comes down. And then -- because we're *not* letting Carlyle walk -- he uses his *other* methods." 

Harvey looks *queasy* -- 

I. I want to *touch*, Fox -- 

It'll just make it harder if you do, Brucie.

I -- of course. And Bruce sinks -- 

And the Fox nods once and smiles a little ruefully. "I carry the equipment with me pretty much everywhere, fellas. I *could* get started right now --" 

Jimmy grunts. "What do you do if she's in her apartment?" 

"Gas her with a *gentle* little number that I happened to discover has some *amnesia*-inducing qualities -- and get to work." 

Jimmy nods. "Go." 

The Fox salutes -- 

Spares a *wink* for Harvey -- 

And flips backward off the roof.

Bruce gives the Fox Carlyle's address once they get to the bike, and the Fox runs over the procedures as he rides. The mics are the best -- they have a pick-up of five hundred yards -- and he *will* have a choice of rooftops for this. 

He's not doing this even *remotely* officially, so he won't need to worry about changing *tapes* -- except when he has to leave for a while -- 

And then he has to hope it's not too *long* a while -- 

No, he's not gonna think about that. He *can't*, because there are a few too many delicate sensibilities out there -- 

Fox. 

It's *true*, Brucie. 

It's not -- I can't -- 

But I *can*. And you built me that way because you knew I'd *have* to. 

Bruce is silent within him -- 

*Muley* within him -- 

You've been thinking about Kent too much, Bruce finally says after a long moment. 

Which -- the Fox snorts and fills their mind with the memory of *that* press conference. Superman talking *earnestly* about the disappointing *stubbornness* of Intergang -- 

He'd actually *used* the phrase 'crime doesn't pay' -- 

Yeah. 

So he and Bruce laugh together on their way to Carlyle's, which -- well. They have three nights. 

They'll use them as best as they can.


	26. Chapter 26

The Fox wakes him with a *soft* kiss, soft enough that Bruce rises for it helplessly, wantingly -- 

Oops. Watch that, Brucie -- 

What -- oh. Dick is sitting on the side of Bruce's bed with one of Bruce's old sketchbooks in his hands. Bruce keeps those tucked behind a false cabinet in the Fox's headquarters -- 

Bruce sits back against the headboard and does his level best to wake quickly -- "Dick...?" 

Dick doesn't say anything -- he bites his lip. And opens the sketchbook to an eight-year-old sketch of Harvey reading a law textbook on a rumpled bed. He's wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, and those are tugged down low on his right hip. He is... 

He is beautiful, and it takes a great deal not to reach out and stroke the air over the image, especially where Bruce had managed to capture much of the sense of *thickness* of his abdominal hair. But -- "Did you... want to know who that is?" 

Dick nods once. 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "My brother Harvey. My parents adopted him when we were both fourteen." 

Dick blinks rapidly -- "Um." Dick *looks* at him -- 

And the Fox smiles ruefully at him -- 

"We were lovers for nearly ten years, Dick. From the time we were sixteen until three years ago, when he became serious about his fiancée." 

Dick bites his lip *again* -- 

Opens his mouth -- 

Closes it and shakes his head. 

Hm. "Would you like... I could tell you about him? I know he'll come to care for you very quickly --" 

"How *much*?" 

Bruce blinks. "I... very? He's a warm and loving man. A *good* man." 

Dick sighs and snorts. "Does he fuck kids, Bruce?" 

"Oh! No. Ah... no. He doesn't believe in violence, but he's much more liberal about that sort of thing when it comes to those who prey on children." 

Dick raises his eyebrows. "And teenagers?" 

"Yes." 

"So -- he doesn't know about you." 

"No, Dick." 

Dick nods and closes the sketchbook. "Would he hate you if he knew?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "If I couldn't control myself. As of now... I believe he would focus much of his attention on getting me psychological help." 

Another nod. "Does that work?" 

"I'm afraid not. There has been a great deal of scattered experimentation with chemical castration --" 

"*What*?" 

"The use of certain hormones to reduce -- or even destroy -- the male sex drive." 

Dick blinks. "What... does *that* work?" 

Bruce smiles. "So long as the hormones continue to be consumed, the male will -- probably -- not be able to achieve sexual desire. He will also almost certainly grow breasts --" 

"Oh -- Jesus. Uh." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

Dick looks at him from under his lashes. "Would you?" 

"If I couldn't control myself." 

"How do you know you *can*?" 

"You are beautiful and eminently desirable. A part of my mind has given itself over entirely to dreaming of having you in my arms... and in my bed." 

"Then --" 

"Wait. Please?" 

Dick shifts restlessly and nods. 

Bruce nods, as well, and folds his hands on his lap. "I... I've said that I care about you, and that's even the truth. The *whole* truth, however, is that I fell in love with you in barely more than an instant --" 

"*Bruce* --" 

"Please," Bruce says, and pats at the air. 

Dick frowns. "I -- go on." 

He folds his hands once more. "I love you, Dick, and, to me, that means your happiness and comfort are paramount. While I am a young and relatively healthy male -- and thus subject to the average complement of human desire -- I am also a man who has never been aroused by the... the *difficulty* of a loved one. If I tried to force myself on you, I believe the... ah... shrinkage would thus be rather *severe* --" 

"But if I looked like I wanted it enough, you'd be fine?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully again. "There is something else. Something... well. One of the names for one of my psychological conditions is multiple personality disorder --" 

"I *noticed*." 

"All right. The Fox... the Fox can control my arousal, Dick. He can also control his own save in the most... hmm... *severe* cases. Were you to make a serious, honest, and sober effort to seduce me, I would have difficulty not surrendering. But it would not be impossible and, in all other cases, I am confident in my ability to remain only *emotionally* aroused around you. We've known each other for hardly any time, at all, and so I will not ask you to trust me, but I will ask you to always bring your concerns to me as soon as you're able so that we may discuss them." 

Dick bites his lip once more -- and nods. "You should sleep more. It's only ten and I know you didn't get in until after three. I -- Alfred said." 

"I rarely sleep more than six hours a night." 

"I -- oh. I want." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

Dick scowls for a moment -- and Bruce would be very, very surprised if it wasn't directed at himself. 

"Whatever it is --" 

"Don't --" Dick shakes his head, growls -- and kicks off his shoes, crawling up toward Bruce and sitting on his lap. 

Bruce wraps his arms around Dick firmly and kisses the top of his head. 

"You're not -- you're not my Dad." 

"I never can be." 

Dick nods and cries quietly for ten minutes, periodically scrubbing his face against Bruce's chest. Alfred had left tissues in every room in the house -- even the unfinished ones -- but Dick is uninterested in them until the tears have slowed enough for him to breathe in something close to a regular rhythm. 

He blows his nose for another few minutes, and allows Bruce to throw the tissues away. 

He -- he rests his head against Bruce's chest, and Bruce strokes him as gently and warmly as he can. 

"You..." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

"Who would you have lived with if your parents had died? Do you have other family?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. Or... no, that's not quite true. There is a family of Waynes on the west coast, descended from the adopted son of my great-great-granduncle. It's possible that I would've been given to them, if they would have had me." 

"Why wouldn't they?" 

Bruce smiles and strokes Dick's flushed cheek. "Never underestimate the power and *endurance* of an intrafamily feud. I haven't the faintest clue *why* there was a falling out between brothers so many years ago, but Father might." 

"When. When am I gonna meet your parents?" 

"Today, if you'd like. I --" 

Never alone with Mom. Never ever. 

You... agree with Lex, Fox?

Not... quite. But I can't. I can't trust her anymore. 

Bruce nods internally -- 

"-- is it, Bruce?" 

"I'm sorry. I... there's something you should know about my mother." 

Dick frowns. "Is she crazy like you?" 

God, I love him. 

Yes. "Not... quite? Ah... hm." Bruce lifts Dick and moves him into a straddle of his thighs so that they can face each other more comfortably. 

"What is it? I mean -- what kind of crazy is she?" 

"She... she raised me to be her lover --" 

"*What*?" 

"We have never... touched sexually --" 

"But you're her -- her *boyfriend*? No *wonder* your dad is distant!" 

Bruce blinks. I... 

Yeah, we didn't think about that. I didn't really have us scheduled to do that anytime soon. 

Hm. "For a very long time I didn't -- couldn't -- acknowledge that there was anything untoward about my relationship with my mother. I was... we were close, and if I sometimes caught myself wishing to be closer, still, it seemed only right. She is a bright, brilliant woman who gave me my love of literature and learning in general, and she devotes her life to charity --" 

"Go back to the part where she *wants* you!" 

Bruce smiles ruefully again. "We never discussed it, and she was never... physically inappropriate. Until I began seeing other people -- and making love to them --" 

"Oh. *Who*? I mean -- other than *Lex*." 

Bruce opens his mouth -- 

"Wait, no, what did you talk about? What did -- is she still --" Dick makes a face. "Do you *want* her? Wait, is that *why* you're crazy?" 

Well...

Fox? 

The Fox waves aside a wall of smoke and fog to reveal a small, child-sized door bolted across with many thick, intimidating-looking locks and steel bars. 

What... what is that? 

The only place in your head I've never been, Brucie. I don't... some of your memories lead me here sometimes... but I never get past that door. 

Which memories -- 

You know the answer to that question. 

The scent of milk... 

They shudder together -- and there's a certain familiar touch -- 

You're keeping my arousal at bay. 

Hell, yes. 

Thank you.

Uh, huh. 

Bruce rises again and strokes Dick's cheek once more -- 

"Answer the questions!" 

"I have known desire for her --" 

"Oh my God! That's *fucked*!" 

"I have reason to believe... to believe that there is something which... twisted me. At a young age." 

"Oh -- *Bruce* --" And then there are small, strong arms around his neck, a lean, hard body against his own -- 

Keep it steady, Brucie. 

Yes. "I'm all right, Dick --" 

"You are *not*!" Dick leans back enough to *glare* into his eyes -- "Mom *and* Dad told me about this stuff because Lissa the lion-tamer's daughter Christie was... was *raped* --" 

"Was the man caught --" 

"Oh, yeah, and -- um. Well. The adults... they all hurt him. Badly." 

The Fox and Bruce nod together. 

"Yeah -- um. Look, when something like that happens to a kid it can mess them up *forever*. It can make them like things they normally wouldn't and *do* things they normally wouldn't. I mean -- you know that, don't you?" 

"Yes, Dick --" 

"So -- so -- what *happened*?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't know. The memory -- whatever it will turn out to be -- is, at present, locked away." 

"But --" Dick frowns. "Don't you think you *have* to get help for that? I mean, Lissa stopped touring with us for a whole *year* just to make sure Christie could get help." 

Bruce reaches to stroke Dick's cheek once more. "I... I don't know, Dick." 

Dick nods. "I -- I guess that's fair. Mom and Dad said sometimes people who get -- get raped don't know *what* they want." 

*Bruce* nods -- and. "Would you tell me... would you tell me why, knowing all of this, you still risked yourself in this way?" 

Dick blushes and turns away. "You -- you already know that." 

Bruce strokes down to Dick's shoulder. "You have been... you've needed more than you had." 

"I -- yeah. I guess. I mean. I shouldn't have," Dick says, expression crumpling -- 

"'Should' has no meaning when there is need, Dick --" 

"Do you need *me*?" 

Bruce shivers. "Yes. Very much." 

"But you *shouldn't* have sex with me." 

Bruce laughs softly. "Perhaps there can be exceptions to rules?" Bruce shakes his head. "You're very young, Dick." 

"And *you* wanted your *mother* when you were my age." Dick looks back and frowns at him. "Did you... you know. Jerk off to her?" 

"No." 

Dick blows out a relieved breath -- and then frowns again. "Did you not want her that *much*?" 

"I'm afraid that isn't it." 

"Then --" 

"I -- kept it from myself. Hid it in the dark corners of my thoughts and focused on other things entirely... save for in my dreams." 

"Like... um. Wet dreams?" 

"Sometimes. The Fox keeps my memories of those dreams away from me." 

"But -- *he* knows all about them?" 

"Yes. Do you wish to speak with him?" 

"Yeah, but..." 

"But...?" 

Dick blushes. "He doesn't really... um. Cuddle. Right?" 

"Not... not very much, no. He is learning. He *will* learn." 

Dick nods and pulls back further, balling his hands into small, hard-looking fists. 

The Fox rises and strokes over Dickie's knuckles. "Wanna learn how to throw a punch so that it *always* destroys your target a little?" 

Something wild and *hot* flashes through Dickie's eyes -- 

The Fox smiles and prepares to get up -- 

"Wait!" 

"I'm waitin', I'm waitin'. No rush for *any* of this stuff, k?" 

Dickie nods. "Tell me what kinds of things he dreams about? I mean -- do *you* dream?" 

"Nah. I don't really sleep. And Bruce... well, he dreams all night *every* night. Sometimes I have to wrestle his subconscious a little so he'll get enough of the right *kinds* of sleep." 

Dickie blinks and stares. "Um." 

"Yeah?" 

"I think -- wait, there are wrong kinds of sleep? Other than passing out drunk or being in a coma or something?" 

The Fox waves a hand. "It's more like how *every* human needs to have a few different kinds of sleep every night, and has to have the right *amount* of each kind of sleep. The kind where you dream the *serious* dreams should only take up about twenty to twenty-five percent of your night. Sometimes Bruce can get up to forty or fifty without intervention." 

"And that's... dangerous?" 

"It leaves him unrested. And... heh. He can get a little close to thinking about things that would hurt him." 

"Like.... wanting his mother?" 

"Uh, huh. I..." The Fox frowns and ruffles Dickie's hair. "We can put off having you meet her for as long as you want, you know." 

Dick nods. "She... she *meant* to make Bruce want her?" 

"She really did. She -- she's kinda ruthless, for all that she's capable of being one of the most loving people in my world." 

Dick frowns and cocks his head to the side.

"Yeah?"

"You don't love her the way Bruce does." 

"Thankfully no. I *do* love her -- she's *Mom* -- but even before I knew *how* fucked-up about Bruce she was, I knew there was *something* hinky. She's too smart to have raised Bruce the way she did without knowing something was off. She's the one who *taught* Bruce a lot about psychology, after all." 

Dick shivers. "Did she... Bruce *said* she didn't touch him --" 

"She didn't. If she'd done that, I wouldn't... well, first off, I'd maybe not *be* this way. But I also wouldn't have left Bruce alone with her so much." 

"So... I mean... what's going to *happen* with Bruce and his mother?" 

"She's gonna ask him a lot of questions a mother really shouldn't every time they see each other privately, Bruce is gonna answer them too honestly, she's gonna look deep into his eyes, Bruce is gonna get tempted -- and I'm gonna step in and make sure it never goes beyond that." 

"Can he..." Dickie opens his left fist and reaches out -- 

The Fox takes his hand. "Yeah, Dickie?" 

"Um. Will you always be able to stop him?" 

The Fox grins. "The only time I couldn't was when he was falling in love with you. He stuffed me *down* because I was trying to warn him about what he was doing -- it took me *way* too long to figure it out myself -- and shut me up pretty good." 

"But --" 

"*But* -- he made me stronger after that. It scared him *badly* to hurt me like that. To *blind* me like that." 

Dickie squeezes the Fox's hand. "Fox... how do they *treat* people like you? I mean -- to make them *sane* again." 

"They use tricks like hypnosis to get all the personalities to come out and talk about the things the person is hiding from him or herself so they can eventually make everyone be honest and -- hopefully -- reach a point where they don't have to be fractured, anymore." 

"But you don't want that." 

"No, Dickie, I don't. I did for a while -- meeting Lex's pet psychopaths can make *anyone* wanna be saner -- but Brucie..." The Fox shakes his head. "He's my brother. Maybe it wouldn't be like this if Harvey hadn't broken up with him. Maybe we wouldn't have needed Harvey like that if Mom hadn't warped us. Maybe Mom *couldn't* have warped us if we hadn't been born a little freaky. Maybe a lot of things, you know?" 

Dickie's frown is -- kinda adorably stubborn. 

"What's up?" 

"I don't think -- I don't think you should give up. On -- anything." 

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "I wasn't planning on it --" 

"No, I mean -- you talk like your -- your whole *craziness* is... I don't know -- set in *stone* or something. Maybe. Maybe you'll get *better*." 

The Fox nods and tries not to frown. "It bothers you, Dickie? The way we are?" 

"It bothered *you* --" 

"Please, little guy. I need you to answer that question." 

Dickie's expression gets *more* stubborn --"What would you *do* about it if it did?" 

The Fox squeezes Dickie's hand just a little too hard. "Don't ever count us out, Dickie. Don't ever -- don't ever question what we'd do for you. Don't ever *doubt*." 

Dickie rears back, blinking and shaking his head -- 

*Tugging* against the Fox's grip -- 

Fox -- 

The Fox lets go and raises his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm --" The Fox smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "We belong to you, Dickie. Like -- I never loved anybody other than Bruce before you." 

And Dickie's eyes are wide for that, full and a little *frightened* --

The Fox winces. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to -- anything. Anything, at all. You wanted to know about who we're seeing? Or... something?" 

The pulse in Dickie's throat is just *hammering*. "I think. Um. I told Alfred that I didn't want to eat anything -- I'm hungry now, though." 

"Do you wanna eat breakfast alone?" 

Dickie swallows. "No. I don't. I never like being alone," and he looks down -- 

That part was *muttered* -- 

Oh, Fox, *ask* -- 

"Was I -- was I gone too long last night, Dickie?" 

"You have to fight *crime* --" 

"Not what I asked --" 

"It wasn't too long," Dickie says, and smiles a *small* smile. "And... one day I'll be with you. Right?" 

And that -- the Fox can't help but *beam* for that. "Hell, yeah. I'm gonna teach you everything I *know*. Have you thought about who you wanna be --" 

"Robin. I'm gonna be *Robin*," and the look on Dickie's face says he's *daring* Fox to say something against that... 

The Fox chucks him under the chin. "No flying on an empty stomach." 

Alfred serves them pancakes, sunny-side-up eggs, and spicy sausage which Dickie covers *solemnly* with maple syrup and then makes a point of eating with his bare fingers. 

Bruce rises. "Are they better that way?" 

Dick nods and chews without a word. 

Let's do this, Brucie.

As you say. Bruce pours on the syrup and then tries and fails to pick the sausage up without getting his hands hopelessly -- 

It doesn't work. However, there's a certain warmly *gripping* pleasure to the sensation of the syrup on his fingers, the flavors blend exceedingly well, and, when he makes a point of sucking his fingers as he takes the last bite, there is an additional piquancy from his own salts and oils. 

And Dick is looking at him with a forkful of pancake paused halfway to his mouth. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

Dick puts his forkful down. "Are you gonna do everything I do?" 

"Probably not." 

Dick narrows his eyes. "'Probably'?" 

Bruce narrows his own eyes. "Probably." 

Dick bites his lip. 

Bruce bites his own. 

Dick *snorts* --

Bruce makes his eyes cross -- 

And Dick snickers and steals one of Bruce's sausages before going back to his own food with a quiet hum. 

He is... 

Yeah. 

He's so -- 

Yeah. But stop staring. 

Just -- a moment longer -- 

You look -- too hungry. And not for food. 

Bruce winces internally and turns back to his own plate --

"It's okay that you want me." 

"I -- Dick?" 

Dick doesn't look up, but -- his body language isn't tense so much as it's terribly *quiet*. 

"We need never --" 

"I want you, too. You -- even when you were just the rich creep -- you're really... um. Attractive." 

"Dick..." 

This time, Dick *does* look up, and there are hints of the fey, wild boy from the circus in his eyes. "You're never gonna hurt me. I mean -- not if it isn't training." 

"Never." 

"You're never -- you're never gonna try to force me to do anything." 

"Never." 

Dick nods. "Okay. Did you like the sausage?" 

"Very much. Though I believe Alfred is going to say something about the state of my napkin." 

"Napkins are for *after* you suck your fingers, Bruce." 

"Hm. I... presumably you mean more than I've *already* sucked them?" 

Dick gives him the slow, pointed nod Harvey would at times when Bruce was being especially obtuse. 

"I don't suppose I could convince you toward the use of a fingerbowl --" 

Dick makes a face. 

"I... there's something... offensive about that?" 

"More *dishes* to do, Bruce! Not that you *do* your own dishes," and there's a twist of *easy* contempt in Dick's voice --

"Perhaps you could teach me?" 

Dick stares at him. 

Bruce raises his eyebrows -- 

And Dick fights a smile before coughing. "Um. Alfred already told me you help out sometimes." 

"Not as much as I wish --" 

"Yeah. He's pretty -- um. Dedicated. Obviously. Anyway, it's easier to get all the sticky stuff off your fingers if you drink juice or water first," he says, and demonstrates. 

Slowly -- 

Brucie. 

Yes. I... yes. Bruce drinks some of his own orange juice and proceeds to suck his fingers clean as thoroughly as possible. When he stops, Dick is staring at him thoughtfully. 

"Are you not hungry anymore, Dick?" 

Dick blinks and looks at his plate, which is still a third full. He frowns. "I usually eat more than this." 

"Yes?" 

"I'm not -- I don't know why I'm not hungry. The food is *really* good." 

"Alfred will be happy to hear that --" 

"I don't -- it's *bad* to waste food." 

"Yes, I've always felt rather guilty if I couldn't --" 

"I'm not hungry," Dick says, and his voice -- 

His eyes are so *bleak* --

Bruce cups Dick's shoulder. "I believe... I believe there are some situations in which an exception can be made --" 

"Rules don't count if there are too many exceptions," Dick says, a flash of passion rising in his eyes -- 

"We have learned -- often in the hardest possible way -- that attempting to apply rules as though the world in which we live is one of stark blacks and whites --" 

"I don't wanna talk about this." 

Bruce squeezes Dick's shoulder. "All right. What would you like to do?" 

"Go. Go home." 

"The circus is still --" 

"My parents... what's going to happen to their stuff? *My* stuff." 

"Whatever you wish." 

"I want. Everything's in our trailer." 

"Yes?" 

"I mean." Dick scrubs his hands on his thighs roughly, restlessly -- "We'd just cleaned out the car. We were gonna get a new one. My parents had saved for the down payment and everything." 

For a moment, Bruce can see Dick's parents clearly. They are sitting at the table in their trailer -- undoubtedly one which could be folded down or back up as needed -- counting a small pile of well-used bills and discussing what sort of vehicle to purchase. 

He can *feel* Dick sleeping lightly and peacefully in the background -- 

He can smell the lingering scents of stage makeup and the sweat of exertion -- 

For a moment, Bruce misses them very badly, indeed, and so it feels natural -- even more natural -- to pull Dick onto his lap and hold him while he cries once more. He kisses the top of Dick's head and rocks him slowly and gently. 

He -- holds on, and tries to hold on to the wisp of false memory -- 

"Dick..." 

Dick nods against his shirt. 

"I would like... anything you wish to share of your parents. Any memory, however small or shallow. I would like to hear them all." 

Dick nods again and clutches Bruce tighter. 

It seems -- 

For all that he'd never spoken a word to them --

It seems wrong, somehow, that two of the last people they ever spoke with were Jack and Janet *Drake* -- 

We should check on little Timmy. 

Have we come up with a reasonable excuse to do that?

He might wanna see that Dick is okay for himself. I mean, I *saw* them, Brucie. The Drakes were holding Timmy *still* in the bleachers while everybody else was running wild. 

*No* -- 

Yeah. I mean, they *might* have just wanted to make sure they weren't separated -- 

They didn't comfort him. 

I -- I could only watch for a minute.

Dick makes a soft noise -- and Bruce realizes that he'd tightened his grip too much. "I'm sorry --" 

"'s okay." 

Bruce massages the places he'd squeezed too tightly -- 

Dick shifts and presses closer -- and he isn't crying anymore. He's evening his breathing out slowly and almost professionally -- 

"That's very good. Your breathing, I mean."

"You have to oxygenate yourself really well or else you run out of stamina and maybe cramp -- you know that, already." 

Bruce smiles and goes back to stroking Dick. "It's one of the lessons I picked up in rather excruciatingly painful ways." 

Dick laughs briefly and quietly. "I guess you don't really get so much hard exercise if you're richer than *God*." 

"Many of the people in my social class work out quite assiduously in order to keep themselves to rather narrow standards of beauty --" 

"That's not *real* exercise." 

Bruce kisses the top of Dick's head again. "I agree wholeheartedly. Harvey insisted that we work our bodies as hard as possible whenever possible when we were young. We did the landscaping at my parents' home every summer along with whatever rough play he desired, and, of course, the weight training he insisted I take up in order to -- and I quote -- take advantage of the fact that I was built like a brick --" 

Alfred clears his throat. From behind them. 

Bruce coughs. "Yes, Alfred?" 

Alfred hums and moves to take the dishes. "Was everything to your liking, Master Dick?" 

"Oh -- I'll eat more --" 

"*Not* if you are not hungry, young sir," Alfred says, and gives Dick a *stern* look. 

Dick, for his part, stares *bleakly* at his plate, which makes Bruce wish -- 

Alfred hums again. "Do you know, the most curious thing occurred not five minutes ago." 

Bruce blinks. "Yes, Alfred?" 

"Yes, sir. I was bringing the trash to the service entrance in preparation for taking it out when I heard a most plaintive barking, which was coming from a small and rather filthy dog with lovely brindling which was sitting just to the side of the trash receptacles. The dog seemed hungry, but I did not have anything to hand..." 

Dick bounds out of Bruce's lap, takes his plate from Alfred -- "Be right back!" -- and departs. 

Bruce smiles. "Well done, old friend." 

Alfred inclines his head. "The dog has a collar, which strongly suggests that *someone* is looking for it even as we speak. Just the same, I believe they can continue to wait for their companion for another hour." 

"As you say," Bruce says, and finishes his own meal at speed -- 

Alfred tuts. 

Bruce swallows some of his juice and dabs at his mouth. "My apologies, Alfred. Everything truly was quite wonderful, and Dick expressed similar sentiments." 

"Very good. Just the same, I will be preparing meals with smaller portions for him until such time as he is ready for more." 

"And... perhaps more snacks during the day?" 

"Just so. Has the young sir spoken of any favorite meals?" 

"Not yet. I've been working not to guide our conversations too strongly, as he seems willing to speak of his grief without prompting." 

"I believe that will prove to be the wisest course," Alfred says, and puts out a hand when Bruce starts to rise to help with the dishes. 

"Alfred --" 

"Sir..." Alfred frowns and searches him deeply. 

"Yes?" 

"Do you love the young sir?" 

Careful -- 

Yes, but -- Bruce smiles ruefully. "With every part of myself." 

"Hm. I suppose you *can* say such things with more authority than most," and Alfred raises an eyebrow. 

"I'm -- trying --" 

"You must provide Dick with as stable a home as *possible*, Master Bruce." 

"Agreed --" 

"And you must..." Alfred frowns and plucks microscopic lint from the towel over his forearm. 

"Please, tell me your concerns, Alfred." 

"Will you be able to... control yourself?" 

Oh... shit. 

Alfred *always* knows -- 

Not *everything* -- 

But this. 

Yeah. I. I got nothin' -- 

"Sir..." 

Bruce takes a deep breath. "Would you tell me --" 

"Master Bruce, I have known you since your childhood. For a moment... for what seems now to have been only a moment, I believed you would grow out of your... unfortunate connection of all things filial to all things romantic. Please understand; I do not fault you for this darkness in your heart. You have been... you have been sorely tested by those who should have done nothing of the kind." 

"You. You knew about Mother?" 

Alfred's smile is small and pained. "I believed that she would never truly cross the line further than she already had. I believed that you had done well with letting Master Harvey go. I believed that you would heal, with time and time away from the *manor* --" Alfred shakes his head once. "In some ways you have healed quite well. In others... you have not." 

Bruce looks down at his empty plate -- no. He is more than that. He looks up to meet Alfred's eyes again. "I have not touched him inappropriately, and I will not." 

"He is a deeply affectionate young man --" 

"I can't. I can't hurt him." 

Alfred looks down this time, and the moment stretches awkwardly and *painfully* -- "Does the Fox love him, too." He doesn't look up. 

"Yes, Alfred." 

Alfred nods and plucks away more lint -- 

Alfred shudders and sighs -- 

"Alfred, it's all --" 

"I fear for you, Master Bruce. More, in some ways, than I fear for Master Dick." 

Bruce frowns. "My... are you speaking of my soul, Alfred?" 

Another pained smile. "Time spent with Dr. Thompkins is time during which one is brought to the conclusion -- often most forcefully -- that the soul is a construct of fevered imaginations and immature hope. Just the same... just the same, I believe I am speaking of just that." 

"I *won't* molest or -- or *seduce* --" 

"And if the young sir, in a moment of deepest hurt, asks for just that?" 

"Alfred, I've *studied* the grieving process. I won't -- I will not take *advantage*. I've made that promise to myself *and* to Dick." 

Alfred blinks. "You have discussed the matter with him?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I... certain members of the circus were already aware of Dick's... affectionate nature." 

Yeah, *don't* mention wanting into his pants. 

I don't -- I don't wish to lie -- 

I'm thinking... no, wait. Let him talk a little more.

All right -- 

Alfred takes a deep breath and *pats* the towel on his arm before nodding once. "The young sir has taken to you and your comfort well. For that reason -- and for that reason alone -- I will *not* advise you to spend more time with your other -- with your lovers. However, you *will* take your ease with them whenever feasible." 

"Of course, Alfred --" 

"I... I am worried, Master Bruce." 

"What can I do to ease *you*? Please, tell me." 

Alfred closes his *eyes* and smiles, but there is no happiness in it. There -- 

Bruce stands and pulls Alfred into a hug -- 

Alfred shudders and stiffens -- and then hugs Bruce back. "I asked Dr. Thompkins once, when you were only a boy with a mother who would spend hours closeted with you behind literally closed doors, what could be done." 

"Alfred...?" 

Alfred steps back and straightens Bruce's workout clothes with a handful of sharp, brisk motions. 

"Please, Alfred, what --" 

"Dr. Thompkins has never entirely approved of your mother, though I trust you will keep that confidence, as your father remains her dearest friend." 

"Of course --" 

"That day..." Alfred frowns again and shakes his head. "That day, Dr. Thompkins spoke to me of power and inevitability -- and the scrupulous fairness of Thomas Wayne. She spoke to me of the all-consuming nature of his love for your mother, and how there would be nothing... nothing he could accept without the strictest, most undeniable proof." 

"You... watched Mother for signs that she was abusing me?" 

"Every day, sir. From the time you were seven years old." 

"She. She never --" 

Alfred stops him with a look. 

Bruce swallows -- and nods. "I... spoke to her about the inappropriateness of our relationship. She won't... we won't." 

"Master Bruce... did you never wonder at my *relief* when you took up with Master Harvey?" 

Bruce frowns. "I. I thought you simply understood how we felt about each other."

"Yes, of course, but -- oh, sir. If there had been *anyone* else who could take your thoughts from your mother -- no, I am sorry. That is all water under the bridge. You *have* done well, and I *am* proud of you." 

"But... you remain worried." 

Alfred reaches up and tucks a lock of Bruce's hair behind his ear with one gloved hand. "While even many beasts are capable of transcending that which they were raised to be... I find I cannot ask you to promise that you will never let your feelings guide you to the places your mother built within you." 

"I *do* promise --" 

"I also find that I would not wish to hear your promise even if I *could* ask, Master Bruce." 

Oh -- damn. 

Yes. I -- "You believe I will fail." 

This time, Alfred's smile is soft, and warm, and loving -- and full of pain. "I believe that you will always love, sir. I believe that you will always seek to give Master Dick joy, and warmth, and welcome. I believe... I believe that you can be guided away from the worst forms of excess, and I believe you are capable of doing the lion's share of that guiding on your own." 

"But...?" 

"I have seen how you love, Master Bruce. The fact that you have thus far managed to free yourself from your mother's *toils* --" 

"*Alfred* --" 

Alfred hisses in a breath. "My -- you have my apologies, Master Bruce. I will not... I will not speak disrespectfully ever again." 

Fuck, Brucie, *tell* him -- 

Bruce grunts. "There are... there is a part of me which feels you made... no error." 

Alfred blinks and studies him *sharply*. "Indeed, sir...?" 

The Fox rises and smiles wryly. "I protect him, Alf-- Alfred. It's what I'm *made* for." 

Alfred shudders all over. "Master... Fox." 

"Just Fox. I'm not --" 

"*Master Fox*," Alfred *snaps* -- 

And the Fox has no choice but to stand straight and *shut* it. 

Alfred nods once. "You are the reason why Master Bruce successfully avoided further obscenity with... that woman." 

"Yeah, Al. I... he would've been like a lamb to the slaughter. A part of him... a lot of him is gonna be on his knees to her for a long, long time." 

Alfred squeezes his eyes shut and turns away -- "I should have --" 

"Gotten yourself fired and taken away from Bruce forever? He *might* have tried to find you again, but who knows what Mom would've told him about you after you were gone? Nah, it had to be this way." 

Alfred shudders again -- 

"Seriously --" 

"There must always be room for regret, Master Fox. This... this is the privilege of old men."

The Fox frowns. "Alfred, there's no percentage -- I kept us from getting seduced by Mom. I kept us from getting seduced by *Harv* last *night*. I can *do* this." 

"Master Harvey --" Alfred cuts himself off with a low noise. 

"Don't -- you can't blame him --" 

"We will leave that aside," Alfred says, and searches the Fox, really tries to *see* -- 

"I'm here, Al." 

"For good and all, it seems. I... would do well to grow accustomed to that sooner rather than later. I thought... I allowed myself to believe that your mother did you -- did *Bruce* more good than harm." 

"She --" 

Alfred raises an eyebrow. 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "Brucie was never lonely with her. He can't say that about too many people. And the loneliness... I wouldn't be here without it." 

"You wouldn't *be* here without --" Alfred cuts himself off again. "I am sorry. I am becoming... unacceptably emotional." 

"You've got good *cause* --" 

"I *have* --" Alfred shakes his head once. "Master Fox."

"I'm listening, Al," the Fox says, as contritely as he *can* -- 

"You have... you have given me hope." 

The Fox opens his mouth -- 

Alfred raises a hand. "I do not know if I can truly thank you for that, sir. I... I can only say this: I am proud of the... men you have become, and I believe that, no matter what, there is nothing you could truly do which would stop you from being first in my heart." 

The Fox blinks and shakes his head --"I -- can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I --" 

I'm here, and Bruce rises, taking one of Alfred's gloved hands in both of his own. "I'm sorry about that. The Fox is often... he knows very little of certain sorts of emotion, when directed toward *him*." 

Alfred looks at him shrewdly. "Were you... present, Master Bruce?" 

"Not... quite. The Fox was... protecting me. Which strongly suggests that you continued to discuss Mother." Bruce smiles ruefully. "I promise that I'm working to reach... a fuller understanding of my relationship with her. Alfred... what you said..." 

Alfred raises the eyebrow which most often portends a quietly *sharp* scolding about unnecessary hesitancy -- 

"Hm. As you... don't say. I will always endeavor to be the man you would have me be --" 

"*No*, Master Bruce. You must always endeavor to be the man you were *meant* to be, and that is an individual you may find only within yourself." Alfred raises a different sort of eyebrow entirely. "I daresay you will have fewer difficulties than most finding a man inside yourself." 

Bruce coughs. "Ah. Yes. As you say." 

Alfred inclines his head once more and takes the dishes into the kitchen. Bruce... 

Bruce goes to the service entrance. He stands, as silently as he is able, and watches Dick run around and around the small and scrupulously clean alley while the dog -- which appears to be at least part whippet -- chases him joyously. Bruce checks -- Dick's plate looks less licked-clean than lovingly polished. 

I wonder how Al managed to lure the dog over so fast. 

*I* wonder when he decided he *would* lure the dog over. 

Heh. Point. 

Fox... 

Yeah, I think we can totally have a pet for Dick. Maybe a cat, though. Less fuss for Al. 

I... am only thinking of Selina a little. 

I know, brother. I know. We'll ask Dick what kind of pet *he'd* like. 

Yes. And we'll have someone drive Dick's parents' trailer here. There's more than enough clearance in the garage. Or... hm. Perhaps... 

Yeah? 

Perhaps we could set it up in front of the house. The sun would fade the paintwork, but we could redo it as a family once a year. 

He doesn't -- we're not his Dad. 

No. No, not that. Perhaps, instead, a -- 

Brother, Brucie? You don't think that's dangerous? 

Could it truly be more dangerous than this, Fox? We are in *love* with him. We desire him... we desire him as no other. 

I -- 

Just then, something alerts Dick to the fact that he's being watched. That much is clear in the tension in his shoulders, in the way his smile begins to *slip* -- 

Let's go, Brucie -- 

Wait... 

Dick turns then, and, for a moment, the shadow remains under his smile. Bruce reaches to place his palm against the screen, meaning only to greet, or to soothe -- 

The shadows *shift* under Dick's smile, or -- 

In an instant, Dick's smile turns sly and *hot*. 

Oh, Jesus -- 

He beckons.

We can do this, Brucie -- 

We *must* do it. And Bruce opens the door and slips outside. 

For a moment, the dog continues to bark at Dick, urging him to go back to running, but then the dog sees Bruce and cringes, putting his tail between his legs. 

Dick frowns. "Get *down*, Bruce!" 

Bruce drops into a crouch immediately -- 

"And -- um. Get... less... you know!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- but he does know. 

If you bury me too much -- 

Not too much. Never again, brother. 

Brother. 

The Fox sinks deep within him, leaving Bruce feeling overly large and somewhat *unwieldy* -- but the dog makes a small and curious noise and cocks his head to the side. 

Bruce reaches out slowly and carefully -- 

"You *do* know how to do this." 

Bruce smiles at Dick. "Some few of the senseis I studied under kept companion animals. Additionally... there are many skills necessary when one wishes to... move through a city." 

Dick nods thoughtfully while scratching between the dog's ears. "But you never had a dog or cat of your own." 

"I'm afraid not." 

"Did you not want one, or...?" 

"I wanted..." Bruce shakes his head. "I would have vastly enjoyed having a companion animal when I was a boy, but I felt myself to be uniquely unqualified to have one." 

"Uh. What?" 

Bruce laughs quietly -- 

The dog perks up immediately and trots over to sniff Bruce's hand. He does so thoroughly and somewhat frenetically before giving Bruce a casual lick and panting expectantly. 

Bruce checks the dog's collar -- Benedict of the Baxter family, who live some sixty blocks east. "Hello, Benedict. You've made an impressive journey," and Bruce scratches his chin. 

"Bruce." 

"Yes, Dick?" 

"*How* were you unqualified? Did you not know how to shovel poop? What?" 

Bruce smiles again and scratches Benedict's chest -- this makes Benedict sit down and rest one small, rough paw on Bruce's wrist. "This, Dick. This is something I did not know how to do." 

"How do you not know how to pet a *dog*?" 

"The motions were, of course, comprehensible, but..." Bruce shakes his head. "I didn't have the faintest clue how *firmly* to pet, and when to *change* the firmness and direction of the petting, and when to change to, say, scratching or tugging at the looser skin. I didn't know when a dog would welcome brushing, and the idea of forcing a dog to take a bath -- which is something the media suggested would be akin to forcing *me* to socialize with my so-called peers -- was horrific to me. How on earth could I explain to the dog that it was for his or her own good? Additionally --" 

"Uh. Bruce." 

"Yes, Dick...?" 

"The *dog* tells you all of that. Well, not the bathing part, but -- tell me you *know* this!" 

Bruce laughs again -- 

Benedict sits up on his hind legs and paws at the air. 

"Hm. A home with much laughter for you, Benedict? I promise to get you back there as soon as possible --" 

"*Bruce*!" 

Bruce considers giving Dick an exaggeratedly guileless look... but suspects that it would only make him think the worst. "I do understand that now, Dick," Bruce says, and urges Benedict to roll over. "Perhaps you can help me rub Benedict's abdomen?" 

"*Belly*. Dogs have *bellies*," Dick says, and crouches on Benedict's other side. 

"As you say --" 

"Anyway, how did you even..." Dick stares at him with consternation as he rubs the increasingly ecstatic Benedict's... belly. "I don't understand how thoughts like that make it *into* a kid's head. It's like... it's like you jumped right over the common sense bridge and then fell into a *moat*. Full of really smart *dumb*." 

Bruce hums. "An excellent way to put it. All I can say is that, before I met Harvey when I was fourteen, there was rarely a time when I did not feel essentially alien from and to the other children. Essentially *apart*. Even when I enjoyed something other children enjoyed -- like the Grey Ghost cartoon -- I never seemed to manage to enjoy the same *aspects* of it. I have been... I have been *strange*, Dick. For as long as I can remember." 

Dick bites his lip and studies him. "I... most kids don't really understand *important* things." 

Bruce smiles again, helplessly. 

"What is it?" 

"Nothing, truly. I..." Bruce shakes his head. "It's only that I remember mentioning something along those very same lines once to Dr. Leslie Thompkins -- my father's oldest and dearest friend -- only to be told that a great hallmark of immaturity was to believe oneself to be wise beyond one's years -- and peers." 

Dick makes a face. "Is she that stuck-up all the *time*?" 

Bruce coughs into his free fist. "I believe the Fox would laugh somewhat uproariously for that, Dick." 

"You *believe* -- oh. Right. Where *is* he right now?" 

"Deeper within me than usual, where his customary air of imminent violence cannot disturb Benedict." 

They look down at Benedict then... and the dog's tongue is hanging out of the side of his mouth, his tail is wagging furiously despite needing to be dragged against the pavement to make that happen, and the expression in his eyes can only be described as beatific. 

"Good dog," Dick says, casually appreciative, and Benedict wags harder. And then Dick pauses, all over -- 

But before Bruce can ask what's wrong, Dick is using his other hand to stroke *Bruce's* hand, and wrist -- 

Slowly and *firmly* -- 

"Dick..." 

"I wanted. This is okay, right?" And when Dick looks up, there *is* honest question in his eyes, but there's also that sly heat. That -- 

That isn't correct. Not even -- not for a true seduction. Bruce moves his hand. 

"Bruce --" 

"I don't mind being tested, Dick," Bruce says, as slowly and gently as he can, "but I must ask that you do so in other ways." 

Dick frowns -- and blushes. "You're not supposed to be the one --" Dick frowns more darkly, shaking his head and looking away. He never stops petting Benedict, and -- 

"I'm not supposed to be the one who can resist you...?" 

"Obviously, *that's* not true," Dick says, and his expression gains even *more* darkness --

Bruce reaches to cup Dick's shoulder. "The Fox -- and others -- have made me wiser than once I was, Dick. I am... I am capable of recognizing when I am not *truly* desired." 

"I just wanted --" Dick shrugs off Bruce's touch and stands, pacing away -- 

Benedict makes an unhappy noise -- 

But Dick whistles and clicks and Benedict scrambles to join him once more, running around his legs and bouncing happily. 

Bruce stands as well. "Will you tell me --" 

"Wait," Dick says, and snaps his fingers far to the right -- 

Benedict runs to leap and snap playfully at them -- 

Dick moves his fingers to the left and does the same -- 

Benedict barks joyously and follows -- and Dick moves his hand back and forth. 

"Benny would make a good circus dog with more training. Well, depending on how he did around huge crowds," Dick says, and the darkness under his voice is almost meditative. 

"He does seem... responsive?"

Dick nods and starts to turn in a slow circle, Benedict yipping and following. "He *wants* to do tricks. Don't you, boy?" 

More yips -- and Benedict begins running in rapid and somewhat dizzying circles around Dick's legs. 

Dick giggles softly and whistles and snaps for the dog to change direction --

Again -- 

Again -- 

And doesn't stop until Benedict coughs and begins wobbling on his delicate-seeming legs, at which point Dick giggles again and crouches down to stroke his back slowly and firmly. Neither of them look at Bruce -- 

Bruce forces himself *not* to reach for the Fox -- and. "Dick... should I leave --" 

"You -- should pretty much never ask that question again," Dick says, and there is darkness under his voice still, but, overall, he is rueful. 

"Surely --" 

"I'll tell you when I want to be alone, Bruce," and Dick turns back to smile at him quietly. "But you probably shouldn't believe me then, either." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Then when should I believe you?" 

"When I run away." 

"I -- hm." 

"*Sometimes* when I run away," and the darkness... melts away under the force of this smile. 

"I suppose I'll just have to endeavor to follow you closely when you do. To make sure." 

"Uh, huh," and Dick turns back to Benedict, rubbing and scratching -- "I'm sorry." 

"You have nothing --" 

"I do. I just. I'm not going to tease you. And -- not just because it won't *work*," and Dick's snort is low and derisive. 

"I -- wouldn't say it didn't... work --" 

"Bruce. Are you trying to improve my self-esteem?" 

"I --" 

Dick turns to look at him again, eyebrows up -- 

"Hm." 

Dick giggles then -- and Benedict begins licking his face thoroughly. 

"Dick... would you like --" 

"I would just want to train a dog for the big top I'm not gonna be under anymore," Dick says, wrestling Benedict down and rubbing his -- belly vigorously. 

"But -- as a companion --" 

"*Maybe* a cat? I don't know much about cats, though. I'd have to study a little." 

"All right." Bruce starts to reach out -- "And -- you can visit --" 

"It would *be* a visit, Bruce," and Dick's voice gains vehemence. "I can't do that. Not yet." 

"As you say," Bruce says, and lets his hand fall to his side. He waits, patiently -- 

Not long. "We should call the Baxters, I think." 

"I'll do that now. There is... there is something else." 

"Yeah, Bruce?" 

"There was a young boy -- much younger than you -- whom you met the other day --"

"Uh. I meet a lot of kids, Bruce. You have to be more specific." 

"All right. His name is Tim Drake, and your families posed for a picture together --" 

Dick stiffens -- but only for a moment before he begins petting Benedict again. "What about him? His parents were... off. *He* was off. Way too... something." 

"I believe he's suffering a fair amount of emotional abuse from his parents, who are technically in my social circle. They made a point of joining me before the show..." Bruce shakes his head. "I covered Tim's eyes, but I couldn't stay to help any more than that. I was thinking that he might benefit from seeing that you're all right." 

"God, all the kids that saw --" Dick shudders. "*I* didn't even -- I mean, it was the *rule* to scramble down the ladder --" Dick takes a shuddering *breath*. 

"We need not --" 

"He can come over. And -- I don't know. Are you gonna take *him* in?"

The Fox... stirs within him, a smoky tug on his heart and something much lower. 

Bruce frowns. "I'm not sure..." Bruce shakes his head. "It's... possible that I was wrong about the abuse." 

"But you don't think you were." 

"No, I do not. If I can find adequate proof, I will do what I can to make sure Tim goes to a *good* home."

Dick bites his lip and nods. "You have a big place." 

"I... I also have many secrets, Dick." 

Another nod. "I -- *we'll* think about it?" 

And that -- Bruce smiles helplessly -- "Yes. We will."

Dick blushes and smiles almost *shyly*. "Okay. Go call the Baxters. *And* the Drakes." 

Bruce does just that. The Drakes' nanny Milagro takes a message for him, and the Baxters turn out to be a black family with three small daughters -- all of whom had been missing Benedict terribly. Dick plays with them and Benedict for the half hour Mason and Geraldine Baxter allow for coffee and grateful conversation -- 

Which ends abruptly with a chorus of laughingly disgusted children, as Benedict leaves much of his lunch on the youngest Baxter's -- Ina -- lovely shoes and socks. 

Alfred bags the offending clothing for them and Mason carries Ina to the car. Geraldine hugs them all and herds the other two children away. 

After that, Dick helps Alfred hose the alley down... and Bruce calls Harry Haly about getting the Graysons' trailer driven into the city. He promises to have it done the very next day, and they have a brief conversation about finances which ends with a verbal handshake and Bruce becoming a silent partner. 

He feels warmer for that, but -- it still feels much better to slip within and *seek* -- 

He finds the Fox in what looks to be a small home theater. He's eating popcorn which seems *soaked* with butter, he has his feet up on the back of the next row of seats, and he's watching film of Dick tumbling. 

For a moment, Bruce thinks it's a memory... but Dick's costume changes to brown and red silk -- 

It's a *uniform*, Brucie. 

Hmm. Of course. 

Tch. You should *encourage* me to be serious about *some* things, ya know. 

Bruce sits on the back of the chair next to the Fox's own and strokes his hair. I missed you. 

Yeah...? 

Yes. I felt... I felt empty without you. Even while Dick and I were speaking. 

The Fox reaches to grip Bruce's thigh -- 

And there is a flood of recent memory at speed -- 

And then they both... know. And understand. 

The Fox sighs. That *was* a good dog. 

Yes. 

We should make sure he knows he can change his mind. 

Yes. 

And -- he may test us again anyway. 

Yes. I think... I think you left me some of your wisdom, Fox. 

Did I now...? The Fox's grin is sharp. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Heh. *I* think that we've been two people for just long enough to start to grow back the pieces we took from each other.

I... the reading suggests that that sort of thing usually takes longer -- 

The Fox shrugs. So does falling in love. For most people, anyway. I think... I think we're not gonna fit together perfectly when we merge. If we merge. 

You think... there will be leftover... parts? Like ill-fitting neurotransmitters?

Maybe? You're the one into that neuroscience stuff. 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. We will take care of -- and with -- each other. 

You know it. Let's go *work*. 

As you say. 

They rise together, and for a moment Bruce feels *crowded*... 

But it fades by the time Dick is bounding up the stairs beside him. 

They stretch together for a full half-hour, and Dick makes them look old, slow, stiff -- 

He's wonderful. And Bruce is reaching out from within -- 

And that's how the Fox realizes that he's about two and a half seconds from lifting Dick into the air and taking him for a spin around the gym, which -- 

Not exactly optimal. 

The Fox shakes his head at himself. "Dickie." 

"Your turn, Fox?" 

"Uh, huh," and the Fox ruffles Dickie's hair. He's not even flushed, yet. "How much more can I get out of you, flexibility-wise?" 

Dickie looks thoughtful -- and kicks his left leg straight up in the air until he's holding his ankle above his head. 

Jesus merry Christ. The Fox looks -- 

And Bruce is staring and silent. *Right*. Just -- 

"That -- uh. That could definitely be useful." 

Dick raises his eyebrows at him. 

The Fox snorts. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just have to readjust my brain a little about what I can teach you when." 

Dick searches him a little for that -- 

They *both* know that's not all the Fox was thinking -- 

Dick pushes up on his toes -- and then drops his leg and cocks his head to the side. "Is it really that easy to make you horny?" 

"To be honest, Dickie, I'm horny pretty much all the time. It's just how I'm built. I'm *not* losing control --" 

"No, I know. You were closer to *that* before. Hunh. Why?" 

"Because I didn't know I was rising so much, probably. Come with me to the mats." 

Dick nods and follows -- "Rising?" 

"That's how we think about the moments *before* one of us takes over for the other. Rising and sinking." 

"Like... you're a pool or something?" 

"Kinda, yeah. Back off a few feet -- perfect," and the Fox spins into a karate kata, nice and slow. "Watch." 

"Okay -- oh. Oh, wow, you're -- that *kick* --" 

"Heh. That kick took me two months to learn, Dickie. Mainly 'cause I didn't have the extension *you* were apparently born with. But watch the whole --" 

"I am!" 

The Fox nods and forces himself to stay slow and loose and easy -- 

"Oh, I can do that!" 

The Fox grins. "You'll sure as hell be able to do it *soon*. Take a spin around me so you can see what I'm doin' from all angles. Stay about seven feet away." 

"Okay!"

And he starts moving -- 

He catches his breath -- 

He pauses and stares with the kind of concentration that could burn the Fox right *up* -- 

Right where he fucking *stands* -- 

And why, exactly, isn't he working out in a jock? 

Perhaps... perhaps we should start. 

*There* you are. Back from the land of the raging erection? 

Bruce gives him a sour look. I believe *you're* the one -- 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You *zoned*, Brucie. 

His leg was -- 

Yeah, it really was. I'm tempted to start quoting Christmas carols over here, to be honest. 

Hm. I believe that would count as cheating on Lex. 

Let's not ask. 

As you say. I -- 

"Oh, *Fox*! That looks like you could break someone's *ribs*!" 

"I can and I *do*, Dickie," and the Fox spins back down to a ready position. "Now it's your turn." 

"To -- do *that*?" 

"Hell, yeah." 

Dickie bites his lip -- and moves himself *almost* perfectly into the ready position the Fox had started with. 

Oh -- we must -- 

Uh, huh. The Fox adjusts his stance a little -- 

"Okay --" 

"Wait just a sec, Dickie," and the Fox squeezes his shoulders. "Feel this." 

"Um. Your hands?" 

"Nope. Your body. The way it feels in this position. The way you're still. The way you *want* to move." 

Dickie frowns -- 

"Stay loose, now --" 

And Dickie relaxes himself just -- fucking *instantly* -- 

Bruce shivers inside him -- 

"That's good. That's -- you learned that from --" 

"My Mom. She -- she never stayed angry or tense about *anything* for very long." 

The Fox squeezes Dick one more time and backs off. "Happy woman?" 

Dick nods and shifts his shoulders a little -- "She always said that if there was anything wrong the circus couldn't fix, Dad *could*." 

The Fox nods in helpless approval and walks around in front of Dick just to see -- "Lift your right -- yeah. Roll your hand on your wrist -- okay, back into position." 

"I wish. I used to wish everyone could have parents like mine, Fox," and Dickie isn't quite looking at him -- 

"I think I *still* wish the same thing, Dickie." 

Flash of a smile that's just a little too old -- "*You* could've *used* them." 

The Fox winks. "But what would you've done with me if I *wasn't* crazy?" 

Dickie snorts and slips position a little -- but manages to get right back there without Fox doing more than *gesturing*. 

This *boy* -- "Okay, start it up." 

The kicks are sloppy. The punches are wild. The timing is *off* -- and it's all so easy to *correct* that -- 

"Jesus, Fox, do you *always* get hard for kids screwing up?" 

Heh. The Fox strokes down the jutting bridge of Dickie's nose. "Only the pretty ones." 

Dickie scowls at him. 

"No...? All right, how's this: Your extension is perfect. Your speed is perfect. Your *body* --"

"Is perfect?" 

The Fox *taps* Dickie's nose. "Nah. But it's ready to be. You're gonna get this in a *fraction* of the time it took me to get it." 

"Don't -- don't lie to me --" 

"Not one word. Not *ever*, Dickie," and the Fox cups Dickie's chin and forces him to look up into his eyes. 

*Dickie's* eyes are full of worry, fear, anxiety -- they're all different and they're all *wrong*. 

"*Focus*." 

Dickie jerks -- and those eyes fill with *alert* curiosity. 

"Yeah. Like that. Here's the deal, Dickie: I like to think I'm a good guy, and I think I'm even right about that more often than not. The thing is, though? I'm only a *nice* guy when it's time for it. And right about now, when I'm training you how to keep yourself *alive* out there? It's not time for it, at all. I'm *never* gonna blow smoke up your ass, Dickie. Learn that *quick*." 

Dickie sucks in a quick breath and his eyes get even wider, even more *full* -- 

And the Fox smiles and lets go, chucking Dickie under the chin again. "You're the most beautiful boy in the world, Dickie. Go with the idea that I'm *invested* in keeping you around." 

Dickie nods *slowly* -- and then pulls himself *right* back into the ready position. 

They work on the kata for another hour and a half, and then it's time for lunch. Dickie's sweaty enough that he asks Alfred if they can eat in the gym instead of the dining room, and Alfred allows it with a warm little smile for both of them. 

They eat cold cuts sandwiches with plenty of cheese and greens, a salad with a nice vinaigrette dressing, and finish it all off with cookies for dessert. This time, Dickie's appetite is out in force -- enough so that the Fox gives up a couple of his cookies to top the kid off. It's the kind of sacrifice he'd make all day, every day if he could, considering the little noises Dickie's making -- 

Even for Alfred's chocolate *chip* cookies, Fox...? 

Even for those, you big freak. 

Hm. 

Also, it's not like *you* don't ever get ridiculous about Alfred's cooking -- 

Very true. 

Dickie looks *better* eating it than we do. 

Also... very true. The way he looked when you told him of his beauty... 

Yeah. Yeah. But we're good. 

Yes. 

We can -- we can do this. 

Yes. 

The Fox finishes off his juice and urges Dickie to do the same, and they spend the next two hours doing the light conditioning they *should* have started with. Dickie's extremely unimpressed with the treadmill, though, and the Fox has to promise that they'll go running outside more often. 

Still -- "We can't look as good as we are out *there*, Dickie." 

"Why -- oh. No one can know what kind of shape you're in, right?" And Dickie just keeps doing his push-ups *exactly* like someone who'd had to have serious upper-body strength for a long damned time. He'd had to have his form corrected a little, but... 

The Fox forces himself to keep doing his chin-ups instead of getting down there *with* him. And -- "Exactly. It'd be one thing if we were smaller and more average-looking, but all kinds of people would start asking questions if Bruce Wayne was *obviously* in shape on top of being six-foot-four and two hundred and sixty or so pounds." 

Dickie snorts. "You're kinda more than just 'in shape', Fox." 

"Heh. We aim to *please*, Dickie." 

A snicker and a hum -- "So... who are the earrings for *really*?" 

The Fox grins. "The new Black Canary." 

"There's a *new* one? I -- what does the JSA say about that?" 

"They'd probably have a lot more to say about it if she wasn't the *first* Black Canary's daughter, who happens to *also* be named Dinah Lance. I... you really pay *attention* to all those superheroes. Do I have to be jealous over here?" 

"*Fox*. Superheroes are *cool*. Though..." Dick stops at thirty push-ups and folds himself into lotus. 

"Yeah, Dickie?" 

Dickie smiles wryly. "I didn't know *what* to think about *you*, Fox. I mean, there were articles about you in the fan magazines, but they were mostly about you embarrassing people and kissing guys." 

"Heh. All about the theater, Dickie. Too many of these superheroes are *way* too easy to connect to their civilian lives. I know -- I've done the connecting for most of them." 

"*Most*? I mean -- *do* you work with them? Other than Black Canary II." 

"I worked with the first Black Canary a few times before she passed away, another few times with the JSA as a whole -- for the most part, they can't *stand* me --" 

"I *saw* that picture of you grabbing Green Lantern's *ass*, Fox." 

"And a fine, *firm* ass it was," the Fox says, flipping himself on the bar so he can switch to crunches -- 

"Do you do that on the street?" 

The Fox uses his first crunch to settle his knees over the bar *correctly*, checking the angles and rubbing out excess tension in his left quad. Then he straightens again, breathes deep, and begins. "When you spend as much time on Gotham's crumbling rooftops as I do..." 

Dickie nods and starts stretching his upper body. "You do it pretty well, but you're still a little stiff. I could... um." And he's blushing... 

The Fox grins. "You *will* be teaching me, Dickie. Let's just hope I can *learn*." 

That gets him a hum. "*Somehow*, I think you'll be able to manage." 

Oh, you've *impressed* him... 

Yeah, let's *try* not to get too high on that. 

Is that... possible? 

The Fox forces a snort down to another grin. Not even remotely. 

Hm. 

"Anyway," the Fox says, and adjusts his position a little, "I'm hoping you meet Dinah as soon as possible. She's pretty great." 

"And hot?" 

The Fox whistles as obnoxiously as possible -- 

And Dickie giggles. "Does she slap you for doing stuff like that?" 

"Do you think she should...?" 

"Yes!" 

The Fox grins. "Hate to disappoint you, Dickie --" 

"Aww --" 

"-- but the lady *much* prefers kicks, punches, and *nerve* strikes." 

"Oh -- oh, I wanna learn --" 

"You will. You'll learn *all* of it, Dickie. I promise." 

Dickie bounds up onto his feet -- 

"But for now? I can still *see* the tension in your upper body --" 

"I'm just *excited* --" 

"Dickie." 

"Oh -- *Fox*!" 

The Fox hangs, crossing his arms over his chest in the *stern* way -- 

And Dickie giggles for it. "That -- um. It doesn't work when you're upside-*down*, Fox." 

I believe he has a point. 

So he does, so he does. Still -- "Remember, Dickie: the faster you follow orders --" 

Dick blows out a gusty sigh. "'The faster I get to do what I *want*.' *Yes*, I *know*." Dick sticks his tongue out at him -- 

Don't think of oral sodomy, Brucie. 

I *wasn't* -- 

You are *now*. 

So, I might mention, are you. 

Oh -- right. The Fox shakes it off internally and focuses on Dickie, who has gone back to easing his tension by stretching himself into the kinds of positions -- 

Right. 

The Fox does his crunches, meditating a little on the fact that, sooner or later, the gym will smell like *both* of them -- 

Like Dickie's clean sweat -- 

His beautiful *body* -- 

Fox. 

I know, I know -- hey. 

Dickie's hand is on the Fox's abdomen, stroking at the muscle -- "I'm not -- I'm not." 

"It's okay, Dickie, I can tell," and the Fox keeps himself working, working -- 

"You don't have a body like -- um. A body-builder." 

"Vigilantes don't tend to. Not the ones who *last*." 

Dickie nods and moves his hand to the Fox's thigh, his calf... 

"Any question, Dickie. Anything, at all." 

Dickie nods again and bites his lip. "I -- I can't get too bulky. I mean -- there were some things my Dad just couldn't do, anymore. And you -- you know." 

Ah... "I do know, Dickie. And -- your Mom was pretty slender. Your body might not *let* you get too big anyway." 

"But -- you won't make me?" 

"Not even a little, Dickie. Watching you move... well, it's an education on a *number* of levels. There are a lot of things *I* can do that you'll probably never be able to manage, but..." The Fox shakes his head. "When my ex told me about Haly's, I knew full well that she was thinking of learning from your family. And I was thinking the same thing. It'll be a while from now, but you're gonna be able to kick ass in ways *I'll* never be able to touch." 

"Your -- who's your *ex*?" 

The Fox sighs. "She's more Brucie's ex. Selina Kyle, aka the Catwoman. High-end jewel- and art-thief and truly *stunning* individual." 

"You were dating a *thief*?" 

"I was *fucking* a thief -- while Brucie was busily falling for her." 

Dickie frowns and pushes up on his toes to prod at the Fox's knee --

"Any question at all, at any time." 

"Does that -- I mean. I think I need to speak to Bruce." 

"Sure thing," the Fox says. "Just call when you need me -- or want me." 

Dickie bites his lip and nods, stepping back a little -- 

And Bruce rises. "You need not move." 

"You -- like having me close." 

Bruce smiles and goes back to the crunches. "Always." 

Dick nods. "Do you miss -- Selina?" 

"Yes, I do. She is... quite sharp. In every way." 

"Is that the kind of person you like?" 

"I will always be attracted to people --" 

"Who can 'run rings around you'?" 

"Precisely." 

"But I *can't*." 

"Dick --" 

"You -- see me coming. All the time." 

"I have made a thorough study of grief, Dick. The fact that I find certain emotional reactions predictable does not mean I find *you* predictable." 

"What does -- I don't get that." 

Bruce nods once. "Consider it this way: you're an experienced performer, and one of the things you're experienced *with* is how the average child will respond to you when you fill their minds with all the wonder and beauty they will see during the show." 

"Kids. Kids *always* get excited." 

"Precisely. However, something *stopped* you from being entirely sure about how Tim Drake would react --" 

"He talked like he was two or three *times* older than he was --" 

"Was that all?" 

"Well -- no. He was off, like I said." 

"And yet you still had no difficulty making him smile and laugh." 

Dick frowns. "Just like -- you know when to hug me. *How* to hug me. What to *say*." 

"Yes. I do *not* know, however, how you'll respond to other sorts of things, or what you'll say or do during those times when grief is not --" 

"Grabbing me around the neck and *squeezing*?" 

"If I could, Dick, I would take every moment of your pain for my own." 

"Because you don't want me to hurt or --- or because you want to swallow me *whole*?" 

Bruce hums. "I believe you'll find that I had no idea whatsoever that you would say something like that." 

It surprises a snort out of Dick, and he punches Bruce's thigh with light but accurate force. "I'm not an *idiot*." 

"No, you are not. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I, on the other hand, am someone who surprises himself rather more often than could ever be comfortable..." Bruce smiles ruefully and does his last five crunches before flipping back to his feet and resetting his personal equilibrium. 

When he is comfortable being upright once more, he opens his eyes and feeds himself with Dick's beauty, his openly curious gaze... 

God, we're a mess. 

Yes, that. Bruce strokes Dick's cheek. "Beautiful boy... you must never let me devour you --" 

Dick's expression twists to a purely sardonic *confection* -- 

"Hm. Perhaps I should phrase that another way." 

Dick snickers and pushes close for a warm, firm hug. He turns his head and crouches just enough that his ear is over Bruce's heart -- 

Bruce holds him and strokes him and -- "Dick..." 

"I know what you mean. You want -- you want me to be free. Right?" 

Bruce blinks. "I... hadn't realized I had been clear about that." 

"You weren't, really. Annie told me once that the difference between someone you fuck and someone you marry is that the first one will want to keep you all to themselves forever and the other one will want to show you to the world." 

Bruce shivers -- 

"You're a good man, Bruce. I can *tell*. You..." Dick pushes back and gives Bruce a curious look. "You *don't* want to marry me, do you?" 

The Fox fills their mind with images of himself and Dick in *flight* -- and Bruce smiles ruefully. "Not... traditionally?" 

Dick wrinkles his nose. "I'd make *you* wear the dress, you know." 

"You really shouldn't encourage the Fox, Dick. It's always disconcerting to wake up shaved." 

Dick's jaw drops -- 

And Bruce winks -- 

And Dick snickers and dances back, trying out the kicks the Fox had taught him earlier. 

Bruce blocks lightly and firmly, working them back and back until they're on the mats -- 

"Oh! More ass-kicking?" 

"Yes --" 

"Wait! Why did you break up with Selina? And where's Dinah? And why haven't the Drakes called you back, yet? Aren't you, like, one of the most important people in the city?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully and gestures for focus -- 

"Okay, but talk *while* you're teaching me." 

"I could never grow tired..." Bruce shakes his head and moves into the ready position he'd taught Dick -- 

And it's not at all surprising that Dick mirrors it perfectly.

God, just -- the best, the most beautiful, the -- 

Yes. Bruce gestures for Dick to begin -- 

And then moves around and around his wonderful body making small corrections to his form -- 

"Wait, why can you do this when the Fox can't teach me things *you* know?" 

"The Fox is *capable* of teaching you everything I know, and vice versa. He simply finds some things boring --" 

"Do you find *this* boring?" 

"I often 'reread' books I've enjoyed in my mind while I do katas, or have conversations with the Fox." 

"Conversations -- um. Are you bored *now*?" 

"Never with you," Bruce says, squeezing Dick's shoulders for a moment. "Begin again." 

Dick does, and -- "I *can* kick higher than this, you know." 

"I'm not likely to forget." 

Dick blushes. "Um. But -- I'm *short*. *Shouldn't* I be trying to kick higher?"

"At that height -- with the power we'll begin instilling in you tomorrow -- you will be able to stave in the lower ribs for most of your opponents. Never underestimate the stopping power of such a blow." 

"Oh. I -- hunh." Dick pauses -- 

Turns -- 

And kicks out for Bruce's midsection, grazing Bruce with his toe. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"I think -- what do you call the study of -- bodies? Anatomy?" 

Bruce nods once. "I'll teach you --" 

"I knew exactly how my *parents'* bodies were put together, but I never really. Really." Dick lowers his leg and bites his lip -- 

And Bruce pulls him close. 

"I don't *want* to cry right now!" 

"It will be quite some time before your emotions allow you such choices, Dick. Assuming they ever do." 

Dick beats at him lightly with his small fist -- 

"Whatever you need, Dick. You are... you will always be loved." 

Dick sobs --

Dick *clutches* Bruce's shirt -- 

Bruce holds on, and strokes Dick's hair -- 

And smiles helplessly when Dinah walks in with Alfred on her heels. She's carrying a medium-sized duffel, and wearing sunglasses to inadequately hide what seems to be a truly spectacular black eye. He nods to her and she waves and smiles -- 

And tries to get a better look at Dick, who has buried his face against Bruce's chest. 

Alfred places a large tray of snacks on the lunch table and pulls out a chair for Dinah.

She thanks him -- 

And Dick stiffens and turns -- "Oh! Um --" He runs to the tissues and blows his nose -- 

"Dick --" 

"Hey, kid, do *not* worry about the tears," Dinah says, sitting down and crossing her legs. "I cried like a bitch for *months* after my Mom died, and *I* had had months to *prepare* for it." 

"I'm not -- I'm fine," Dick says, and scrubs at his face furiously. 

Bruce moves to cup his shoulders. "Dick... if nothing else, please trust me that the more you resist your tears now, the more they will be able to *ambush* you later." 

Dick stiffens -- 

"Listen to Bruce, Dick -- um. Can I call you Dick?" 

"It's my name. And -- um. You're Dinah?" And Dick turns to peek past Bruce at her. 

"Uh, huh. Bruce told you about me, hunh?" 

"Not *enough*. Not that you'd be coming *over*." 

Dinah grins. "I'm *surprising* him, Dick. I mean, he invited me over *before*, but -- um. Thing?" 

Dick smiles cautiously. 

"That's better," she says, and nods to Bruce. "But *listen* to Bruce. Seriously. I know all kinds of people who tried to hold back their emotions in order to be some idiot's definition of 'strong' or 'manly' and they just wind up hurting themselves *and* their friends. *And*? They totally break down and cry *anyway*." 

"I'll cry *later*." 

Bruce squeezes Dick's shoulders -- 

"I mean -- I mean later today," he says, and blushes as he reaches up to rub Bruce's hands. 

Dinah gives him a thumbs-up. "Come eat and talk to me now?" 

"Um -- sure," and Dick throws away his tissues and joins her at the table. 

For a moment, Bruce can only stare at them together, at their dark hair and beautiful faces -- 

We have a bigger family than we used to have, Brucie. 

Yes, we do. 

Bruce smiles and moves to join them -- 

Oh -- hey. What if -- 

Hm. Yes. "Dick... would you like to speak to Dinah alone for a time?" 

Dinah gives him a questioning look -- 

Bruce gestures wait -- 

And Dick gives him a wry look. "What did we say about 'alone,' Bruce?" 

"I -- hm." 

I love him, I love him, I wanna love him so hard he *yells* for it right *now* -- 

Amazingly enough... I can see the appeal. "I didn't intend to go very far, Dick." 

Dick's expression can only be described as... flirty. 

Sweet Jesus -- 

Yes. "I think... I believe it's important for you to gain as many different perspectives on vigilantism as possible." 

"What about perspectives on *crazy* people, Bruce?" 

Dinah giggles and punches Dick's arm lightly. "Same difference, kid. But -- uh. Not to step on any secrets here, but...?" 

Bruce inclines his head and moves to join them at the table. "Dick knows the truth about my psychological... issues. Though there hasn't been time to provide every detail, I plan to make time for it. Dick must come to know all of my strengths and weaknesses before he joins me on the street." 

Dinah nods and bites her lip for a moment -- and then turns to Dick. "You're serious about this?" 

"*Yes*. I -- I was thinking about it even before my parents were murdered." 

Dinah strokes Dick's hair. "There's no way to say *anything* that expresses how sorry I am for that. Especially since I don't think I would've been able to do anything to save them, *either*." 

Dick nods solemnly. "There's just no way to watch everything in a circus all the time. Even a small one. All he had to do was *wait*." 

Bruce covers Dick's hand with his own. "I am now a silent partner in Haly's, Dick --" 

"Oh -- *when*?" 

"I spoke to Harry Haly while you were cleaning up with Alfred. He's having the papers drawn up, and I will sign them as soon as I receive them. There will be... there will be more safety for your friends and extended family." 

Dinah takes a rectangular stick of what seems to be cheddar and dips it in what seems to be onion dip. "Uh, huh. And -- let's just say that people all over the country are paying closer attention to *all* the small circuses." 

The Fox rises and pats Dickie's hand before sitting back. "Attention from people who wear funny clothes...?" 

Dinah snickers. "I don't know *anyone* like that. Certainly not anyone like that who's been flying around saying nice things about *you*." 

"Nice things...? Kent and I didn't exactly manage to have a *complete* conversation, you know." 

"He's a pretty forgiving guy when it comes to things like that, Foxy. Which made it all the more *serious* when he was saying *mean* things about you," Dinah says, and turns to Dick. "Clark Kent is Superman --" 

"But he's a *reporter* -- oh. *Oh*! I need my *magazines*!" 

The Fox pushes the tray of veggies and cheeses closer to Dickie. "Harry's gonna have someone drive your parents' trailer here tomorrow, Dickie. You can move your stuff in here or leave it in there -- anything you want." 

Dickie bites his lip. "I guess -- I guess there *is* plenty of space in your garage, hunh." 

"Or maybe in front of the house...?" 

Dickie stares at him. "You'd *do* that?" 

The Fox jabs at the table. "Anything. You. Want." 

And that gets him a blush --"I'll -- um. I'll think about it." 

"You do that, kiddo," and the Fox starts juggling celery sticks between bites -- 

And Dickie *smiles* and starts throwing him *carrot* sticks to juggle, too -- 

And the Fox starts tossing some *back* -- 

And Dinah giggles and claps and whistles. "Of course, if you guys make a mess? You totally have to eat it all *anyway*." 

*Dickie* giggles. "Make *Fox* do it. He already eats like an elephant *anyway*." 

"Hey, I gotta maintain my girlish *figure*," and he *barely* manages to keep the vegetables in the air -- 

Nine is his *limit* -- 

And Dickie is getting ready to toss the *tenth* -- 

So the Fox starts snatching the veggies out of the air until his mouth is full.

*That* makes Dickie laugh so hard he drops his own veggies -- 

But Dinah's right there to catch them, dip them, and shove them in Dickie's mouth until it looks like he's smoking four gooey-ended vegetable cigarettes. "*Now* you look like partners." 

"*Thank* you," the Fox says, only the fact that his mouth is full kinda makes it a little incomprehensible. 

I think Alfred would hit us with a serving tray for that, Fox. 

I think we probably deserve it at this point. 

Or possibly a week ago. 

Yeah. That. 

The Fox chews a couple-few dozen times and swallows in *shifts* -- and, eventually, his mouth is empty again. 

Dickie's still trying to eat all three of his celery sticks and his one carrot stick at once, but the giggling is getting in the way. He -- could watch that all day. 

But we have a guest. 

So we do. The Fox nods toward Dinah's duffel and raises his eyebrows. 

Dinah hums and eats another piece of cheese. "*Alfred* has already moved the civilian clothes I brought into one of your guest bedrooms. He says *you* get to pick where my spare uniforms go." 

Dickie perks up and chews *faster* -- 

And Dinah reaches over and ruffles his hair. "You can see 'em as soon as you eat a little more. I can *tell* Bruce has been working you hard." 

"You have no *idea* what kinds of skills he already *has*, gorgeous." 

"Heh. I can *see* all the muscle on him," and Dinah winks at Dickie before putting her feet up on the one extra chair, crossing them at the ankle. She is, in fact, still wearing their boots. 

And Dickie's working just a *little* blush. Which -- 

I don't think we should be thinking about -- 

Threesomes? We should *always* be thinking about threesomes, Brucie. 

Dick is a *virgin*, Fox -- 

And that can *change*. That *should* change -- 

Fox. 

Oh... right. We weren't going to -- right. 

The Fox *focuses* and strokes over the laces of Dinah's boots, tugging a little. "Planning a little belligerence, gorgeous?" 

"Would you believe I sprained my ankle out there between dimensions? Some dickhead of an elder god whipped me against a wall with a tentacle." 

Dickie stares at Dinah. 

The Fox... does his own staring. 

"Oh, it was fine! Alan -- that's the *original* Green Lantern, Dick -- was right there to wrap it up in an airless construct until it passed out and Kent -- the other Kent, Dr. Fate -- could ship it... uh... Somewhere Else." Dinah's gesture seems to express generalized 'magic.' 

"Um." 

"Yeah, Dick?" 

"Can *you* do any magic?" 

"Oh, not even. Whenever Kent starts mumbling and gesturing and *declaiming*, a part of my brain just shuts right down. I *am* a metahuman, though. I can use my voice to break things." She grins. "And sometimes people, too. Rarr," she says, and pretends to pounce.

Dickie giggles for that. "Are *all* the JSA members metas or magic-users?" 

"Nope! And, believe me, most of the time I'm just using martial arts out there, since I can't risk not *having* my Cry when I need it. Still -- for missions like this? We need *all* the firepower we can bring." She jerks her chin at *him*. "We could've used about *forty* of your firebombs, Foxy." 

"Hey, you're welcome to steal some for your own supply. Brucie's been working on making them smaller so I can carry a few more on a nightly basis." 

Dinah gives him a sly look. "You're not gonna have as much *time* to tinker, you know." 

The Fox grins at Dick. "I know a certain someone who's hoping like *crazy* to get a certain other person interested in the sciences." 

Dickie hums. "If it explodes? I'm interested." 

The Fox kicks Dickie's chair a little. "There's also a lot to be said for slicing into things and seeing how they *work*, Dickie." 

"And... making them *stop* working?" 

"You know it --" 

Don't call him 'beautiful,' Fox. 

*Right*. The Fox covers with a cough that only flies under Dinah's radar because she's feeling generous. *That* much is clear by the wry little look she gives him over her cauliflower, and -- 

She really seems to like the onion dip, Fox.

If by 'like,' you mean she's slowly dragging it closer and closer to her body and is coming this close to blocking Dickie's reach. 

Hm. Bruce rises. "Dinah, if you'd like I could have Alfred make more of that dip. He's assured me that he finds it quite easy to do." 

Dinah looks up guiltily. "Um. I didn't have breakfast?" 

Dickie giggles. "Alfred is a *great* cook. It almost makes up for Bruce being helpless." 

"I assure you, Dick, I once prepared three slices of toast perfectly. The fourth doesn't bear speaking of, but --" 

Dick kicks *his* chair. 

Bruce hums and turns to raise his eyebrow at Dinah --

"I -- yeah. More dip. Because I think if Dick tries to take any more of this, I'll break his fingers." 

Dick pauses with a carrot stick a few inches from his open mouth. 

I -- let's go downstairs, Brucie. 

Yes. "If you'll both give me just a few minutes...?" 

Dick nods. Dinah waves. 

Bruce goes. 

He finds Alfred airing out the guest bedroom nearest his own. The décor Bruce had chosen for it, he realizes, has a great deal to do with Lex's aesthetic. Or rather, what he had *thought* of as being Lex's aesthetic three years ago. 

It's not that he was far wrong -- the lavender paint on the walls below the moldings is absolutely a shade Lex would approve of, and the richly plum and gold paisley duvet on the bed *breathes* the seventies into the room. But... 

"Alfred --" 

"No, Master Bruce, I did *not* choose this room for Miss Lance. It was my thought that Mr. Luthor would appreciate having a space of his own for future visits." 

Bruce smiles ruefully at the back of Alfred's head. "Have I mentioned, lately, how much I miss your lectures on protocol?" 

Alfred pauses with the old, heavy curtains resting over his arm. 

"I could take those, if you'd like?" 

Alfred turns and frowns. 

"Alfred...?" 

"It's quite all right, sir. It's only..." Alfred looks up. "Your father asked me to stop giving you those lectures." 

Bruce blinks. "Truly? I would think... I'm not sure?" 

"Yes. I..." Alfred's smile is somewhat ruefully pained. "He said that he found the *perfection* of your table manners at age three to be somewhat disconcerting. In retrospect... in retrospect, I believe it was your mother who found them to be so." 

"But why would she want --" 

You to be nothing like Thomas, Brucie? Think about it.

Bruce winces. "I believe I will... set that question aside, for now." 

Alfred nods once. "If you'd like, we could all learn together once Master Dick is ready to begin entertaining on a regular basis." 

"I... I'm not sure how he'll feel about --" 

"The people with whom he will be attending school in the fall, sir...?" The twinkle in Alfred's eyes is rather *sharp*. 

"Hm. I take your point. I'll discuss the matter with him when it seems appropriate. For now, however --" 

"You will find two more containers of the scallion and cream cheese dip on the second shelf of the refrigerator." 

Bruce blinks. 

Alfred hums. "Miss Lance tasted it while I was carrying it upstairs. Do send the other container home with her." 

"Yes, Alfred. Ah... which bedroom did you set aside for Dinah?" 

"The northernmost, sir. She was quite pleased with the quality and quantity of the natural light it receives." 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "She may regret that after a long night." 

Alfred sniffs. "I am *quite* sure that I do not know what you might be referring to." 

"Of course not." Bruce inclines his head and goes to retrieve the dip. When he gets back upstairs, Dinah has stripped out of her simple t-shirt, revealing a soft, practical brassiere and many, many bruises. She is showing Dick the proper locations for certain nerve-strikes -- 

And Dick is blushing furiously... but gamely striking out and trying to connect. 

"Faster, Dick, c'mon --" 

"Okay, um -- I don't want to *hurt* you --" 

Dinah snorts. "*Don't* worry about that just yet. Even if you do get past my --" She blocks two hesitant strikes easily. "-- blocks, you'll still have to match *my* speed." 

Dick nods and focuses on her sternum -- 

And Dinah blocks the -- *very* fast -- strike easily and punches for Dick's nose. 

Dick jerks back -- but he's too late to save himself from the *gentle* brush of her knuckles. 

"You just telegraphed, kiddo. Memorize the points on my body you wanna take out, *then* watch my *eyes*." 

"Your -- oh, I *knew* that," Dick says, and sounds as if he's berating himself. "You can *always* see what a guy is gonna do if you watch his eyes." 

Dinah ruffles his hair. "*Almost* always. Certainly with inexperienced fighters. Me, I learned how to hide what I was thinking nine times out of ten, because I didn't plan on wearing a mask." 

"Uh. *Why*?" 

Dinah smiles ruefully. "Because my mom didn't at first? I dunno. It made sense at the time, I swear. Anyway, *you* will have a mask, but you should still learn how to mask *yourself* as much as you can." 

Dick nods sharply, backing off a few steps and looking away. 

Dinah turns to raise an eyebrow at him in question -- 

Bruce shakes his head. He doesn't -- 

Oh, *yeah*. Look at that *kick* -- 

It's perfect, of course. It's -- 

She didn't see it coming, at *all* -- 

And she blocked hard enough that -- 

"Oh, *shit*. I'm so sorry, Dick --" 

"It's okay! Um. I just. I didn't want to be predictable?" And Dick is hopping on one foot while *clutching* his ankle -- 

The Fox rises and moves, carrying Dickie back to his chair -- 

"I'm *okay* -- um. Fox?" 

"Yeah, kiddo," and he pulls off Dick's sneaker and sock -- 

"Fox, c'mon, it'll just be a bruise --" 

"I know, Dickie, but I have to see what *kind* of bruise it'll be." 

"I am *so* sorry," Dinah says, and rests a *cautious* hand on the Fox's shoulder -- 

"Are you apologizing to *him*?" Dickie sounds *incredulous* -- 

And Dinah snorts. "I -- um. Maybe?" 

The Fox grins, knowing it's just a little *too* sharp on his face. He traces the rising, heating bruise with his fingertips -- 

And Dickie shivers for it. 

He -- 

"I'm not his *property*, Dinah!" 

"Of course not! Um. Fox?" 

The Fox grins a little wider. "He's not my property." 

"*Thank* you. But --" Dickie looks down and around and tries to meet the Fox's eyes. "Did that have a 'but'?" 

The Fox looks up and -- maybe he's fixing Dick with this look, a little. 

Maybe he's *gripping* Dick's hard little heel and pressing his thumb to the ball of his ankle. 

Maybe he's *wanting* -- "Do you want there to be?" 

Wide eyes, then, but -- not the right kind. This isn't something Dickie wants. At least -- not yet. 

Soften, Fox -- 

Yeah. In *every* way. The Fox shakes his head and lets his smile become rueful. "You're not my property. You are, however, my partner-to-be... and that means I have to know *everything* about your body all the time. And the fact that you're my *junior* partner-to-be means that I'm allowed to be just a little bit... crazier."

"That! That right there. You should *see* Ted -- that's Wildcat -- when I get hurt." 

Dickie stares and searches him a little -- 

"I surprised you. Maybe scared you, a little?" 

Dickie blushes again and looks past the Fox's shoulder at Dinah -- 

"It's okay, Dick. The community is full of people who can't *stand* Fox, but the smart money is with the people who are at least a little scared of him." 

"Um. Are *you* scared of him?" 

"Heh. Yep. But only in good ways," Dinah says, squeezing the Fox's shoulder and then backing away. 

Dickie frowns at him -- and then smiles ruefully. "So... what kind of bruise is it?" 

The Fox -- doesn't lift Dickie's ankle to his mouth to kiss it. At all. "One that's gonna hurt like hell when I ease up the blood flow. And one that *might* make it necessary to teach you the things you can do sitting or lying down for a day or two." 

A wince -- 

"Still sorry over here!" 

"I'm not mad even a little," the Fox says. "You ready, Dickie?" 

"Um. Yeah --" And he hisses between his teeth for the Fox's touch -- 

I want -- 

So do I, Brucie. So do *I* -- 

It's so easy to imagine -- 

That sound for *other* touches -- 

Oh -- yes, *please* -- 

Wait. Wait for our dreams, Brucie. We have to -- 

"W-why aren't you mad, Fox?" 

Dinah comes around behind Dickie and starts rubbing his shoulders. "I can field that one, actually."

"Ooh -- I mean. Um. Okay?" 

Dinah looks a question at him -- 

And the Fox nods once and looks down again, away from the *bright* pain in Dickie's eyes -- 

His beautiful eyes -- 

"He's proud of you, Dick." 

"But --" 

"You surprised me enough that I *had* to hurt you. That means... heh. You're gonna be a little unstoppable out there." 

"I --I'm just --" 

"You're *just*," the Fox says, and starts going over the rising bruise again, "a boy who learned that kick less than two *hours* ago." He can't keep *enough* of the heat out of his voice -- 

But Dickie just shivers for it. Just -- 

Dinah sighs. "I think this is where I talk about what it's like to be a horny teenager in this community." 

"Oh! I mean -- I don't --" 

"*Neither* of you are wearing jocks, kiddo." 

The Fox smiles *broadly*. "Don't think I wasn't considering it. For *hours*." 

"Heh. Masochist." 

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains *excite* me," the Fox says -- and uses Dickie's breathless laughter to work at the bruise more firmly. 

Dinah, for her part, is working some of Dickie's pressure points... 

"Um -- oh -- *ooh* --" 

"Just keep breathing --"

Don't call him 'beautiful.' 

God, fuck, *again* -- and the Fox shakes his head -- 

"What. What were you gonna call me? What nickname, I mean?" 

The Fox strokes over the top of Dickie's foot, taps the hard pads -- "You work out barefoot a lot of the time." 

"Uh. Yeah? Fox --" 

"I can't let you do that too much anymore," the Fox says, and slips Dickie's sock back on -- 

"Okay, but, tell me --" 

The Fox looks at Dickie, then, and he knows *exactly* what's in his eyes -- 

And he knows even better by the way Dickie's eyes widen again, by the way he parts his lips -- 

And by the way he twitches in his pants. 

"You should. You should tell me anyway, Fox." 

Dinah sighs and yanks on Dickie's hair until he's looking up at her -- 

"Dinah --" 

"You *should* let him protect you from himself, you know." 

Dickie's expression for that is sour -- 

And Dinah snorts and ruffles Dickie's hair again. "Yeah, I know how that look feels like from the *inside* --" 

"You're *not* that much older than I am --" 

"No, I'm not. And *I* started fucking big, hot, hairy superheroes when I was fourteen, so it's not like I'm judging *either* of you any. But." 

Dickie frowns. "But *what*?" 

"But there's no going back, kiddo. You can't unring the bell. *Ever*." 

"I don't *want* to. I want -- I. Um." 

The Fox cups Dickie's face and leans in. "Beautiful, Dickie. I keep stopping myself from calling you 'beautiful'." 

"Oh. Oh. Fox..." 

"I could kiss you right now. I could..." The Fox licks his lips. "I could pick you up in my arms and carry you over to the mats. Or I could lay you out on the table. Or I could lay you out on the weight bench. Or -- I could let Bruce carry you downstairs to a nice, big bed --" 

"I want -- I want you to!"

The Fox leans in a little further -- 

"Oh. I know you won't hurt me --" 

"Some things *would* hurt, though. Some things..." The Fox shakes his head and lets himself breathe Dick's breath, lets himself *shiver* -- 

"Oh, *Fox* -- I don't mind -- you *know* I've -- um. Stretched --" 

"Yeah. I do know that. I know it and I won't *forget* it, Dickie. I just also know that you almost certainly haven't stretched *enough*." 

Dickie moans for that and leans in enough -- to peck the Fox's mouth. "I'm not scared!" 

"You are, though, Dickie --" 

"No --" 

"I can *smell* it," and the Fox lets himself flare his nostrils, lets himself stare into Dickie's eyes -- 

His beautiful *eyes* -- 

"I can smell it, I can feel it, and I can *taste* it. And that's what's stopping me --" 

"Don't *let* it! I'm -- I'm a virgin, it's *natural* for me to be scared! A *little* scared -- *oh* --" 

That for the feel of the Fox's hand on the back of Dickie's neck, for the *squeeze* -- 

"Oh, *Fox* --" 

"Dickie. Are you listening?" 

"Please, Fox -- *please* --" 

"*Focus*." 

Dickie *grunts* -- and his dick twitches again. 

It takes everything he *is* not to grab him there with his free hand, not to *help* -- 

Bruce, where -- 

I'm here. I'm here... and I'm... struggling to remember -- 

Yeah, that. We. We're not *doing* this -- 

His lips are parted, Fox. 

His eyes are wide, too. 

He. He is *erect*. More so by the moment -- 

And I can smell him wanting -- us. Jesus. Fuck. *Fuck*. And the Fox lets go and stands, steps *back* -- 

"No --" 

"*Yes*, Dickie --" The Fox takes a breath and covers his face with his hands. 

"Please, Fox, I'm not -- I'm not that *scared* anymore --" 

"Because you know what you can to do to us?" 

"Um. Yes? Okay, that sounds... really mean -- I won't *tease* you anymore, Fox --" 

"I know." 

"I *wasn't* teasing you --" 

"I know." 

"I -- Dinah, how did you get -- who was it?" 

Dinah snickers quietly -- and the Fox can see her moving around in front of Dickie in his peripheral vision. She's *between* them now -- 

Fox. 

No, I -- I know she's -- trying to help. Fuck, this -- *help* me, Brucie -- 

How *do* you go about restricting my erections? 

I make you think about crime scenes. 

But -- *really*? 

Messy, stinky, tragic crime scenes. 

But I don't *remember* thinking -- 

I put them in the *back* of your mind. Between your hot, throbbing id and that giant fucking wall you have keeping your id from making you catch a *clue*. 

If I -- if we were to remember that gangland shooting from last summer -- 

The social club that didn't get opened *up* again for days -- 

The refrigerator had been left open, as well -- 

The Fox shudders and covers his mouth, hating every *fragment* of food he'd consumed in the past hour -- 

Is it -- 

It's working. It's -- 

You're still hard, Fox. 

I think -- I think we're gonna be at least a little bit hard every minute of every day Dickie spends with us. 

We -- should look without again -- 

And Dickie laughs, bright and breathless -- 

I can't, Brucie. I can't -- I wanna touch him so bad -- 

Go. I can -- I am capable, in this moment. 

*You're* still thinking of that guy who got gut-shot -- 

And I am capable. Bruce squeezes the Fox's hard, tense shoulder and rises -- 

And Dinah is gesturing oddly, her hands spaced several inches apart with the palms facing each other. She separates them by another inch -- 

And another -- 

And Dick *snorts*, slapping a hand over his nose and mouth.

What...? 

Okay, we need to put a cat-flap in your id-wall, Brucie. She's talking about Ted's *dick*. 

Oh, my. 

Yes, that *is* intriguing, and we really need to shower with him at least once -- 

But we shouldn't think about that right now, no. Bruce moves closer -- 

"-- really, I don't know, kiddo. I mean, I explicitly *asked* Ted what it was that finally got him to give it up for me, but he told me that he'd *never* tell, because he *knew* I'd just share the secret with other kids." 

Dick makes a face. "That's *dumb*." 

"Is it, though?" 

"*Yes*. It's not like I'm going to change my *mind* about Fox. *Or* Bruce -- oh. Bruce." 

Bruce nods once. 

"Could... Fox went away because he couldn't... control himself?" 

"Yes, Dick." 

"Would you really carry me all the way to a bed?" 

"Dick --" 

"*Any* question, *any* time. That's what you said." 

Damn it. 

Indeed -- 

Stop that. 

... yes. Bruce smiles ruefully. "If you would allow it --" 

"I *would*. Mom always said beds were a *great* invention," Dick says, and the shadow behind his eyes -- "And it's not *later*, yet." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "No?"

"No. It's *now*. And -- you want me." 

"Yes." 

"You wanted me from the *beginning*." 

"From the very first moment --" Bruce shakes his head. "Yes. But --" 

"Then tell me, Bruce. I'm *asking*. What will it take to make you -- to make you make love with me?" 

Brucie... 

"Don't." Dick bites his lip -- but only for a moment. "Don't break your promise to me." 

Dinah winces. "Dick, he only wants to *protect* you --" 

"He *can't*. I mean -- sooner or later we'll be on the *street* together, and he won't be able to stop beating up bad guys just to save *me* all the time." 

"Dick, that's not --" 

"It *is* the same," Dick says, and pushes up onto his feet, limping gamely around Dinah until he's close enough to Bruce that he has to crane to meet Bruce's eyes. "It's the same and -- and keep your promise. Please." 

Bruce sighs and strokes Dick's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Did you do this to Ted, Dinah?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. Only I was wearing fewer clothes, usually. Sweatier clothes, too." 

"The scent would've been exquisite torture," Bruce says, and strokes a short path through the shine of sweat on Dick's throat before bringing his fingers to just beneath his nose. "Much like this one." 

"Oh -- *tell* me, Bruce!" 

Dinah stands again and stretches her shoulders. "Even when he tells you, Dickie? You don't *have* to do whatever it is. It's *your* choice --" 

"I *know* that --" 

"Do you? Or are you thinking about all that 'teasing' you apparently did? Maybe about how much you *owe* Bruce?" 

Dick -- blushes. 

No, oh -- Bruce steps back -- 

"Oh, Bruce, *no* --" 

"You owe me *nothing*, Dick --" 

"I -- um." 

Bruce groans -- no. He can -- "You owe me nothing. Please -- please tell me you know that." 

Dick turns *away*, and that -- 

Bruce closes his hands into fists and turns to Dinah for *help* -- 

But she smiles ruefully. "It's -- pretty hard to get away from, Bruce. Sometimes I *still* feel like I owe Ted -- and the rest of the Society -- for everything I *am*. And I *do*... but I know it's not like *that*. Most of the time." 

Bruce frowns and pulls Dick close -- 

"I'm *okay*, Bruce --" 

"Please, Dick. Please never -- never anything so *mercenary* --" 

"I *teased* you! A *lot* --" 

"You are -- you are *young*, and this is a time in your life when... when you *must* experiment, and learn more about your boundaries and desires --" 

Dick shoves back from in. "I *know* what you're talking about, okay? You think -- you're trying to be incredibly healthy and *good* about it, but I don't *want* that from you --" 

The Fox rises and *grips* Dickie's jaw. "Listen to me, Dickie: we're being *selfish*." 

"I -- what?" 

"Bruce can give you all the pretty words for it, but it boils down to this: if you start thinking about how much you owe us *now*? You'll start wondering when you're all paid up *later*. You'll start thinking about *leaving* us, and -- fuck, the JSA is based outta *this* town, but you know where Dinah's *love* is? The guy she actually lets get *away* with shit?" 

Dickie frowns. "There. There are rumors about her and Green Arrow --" 

"The rumors are true, kiddo," Dinah says, and brushes Dick's hair away from his forehead. "Ollie -- that's GA -- and I are pretty much dating. Sometimes I still hook *up* with Ted, but... I don't think I could ever actually *date* him. It's just -- too much." 

Dickie frowns more *deeply* -- and brushes their hands away from himself before walking a few paces away. 

His limp is *minor* --

The Fox pushes a hand back through his hair and tries not to stare *holes* in the kid's back -- 

And Dinah hugs him just like she knows exactly how much he needs it. 

She does. 

Hell, yeah. The Fox turns into it and kisses her forehead a few times, squeezing her tight-tight-tight -- 

She giggles and jabs him in the side. "Watch the *bruises*." 

"The bruises mean *love*, gorgeous --" 

"I want -- that," Dick says, and when the Fox looks up he's staring at them hungrily. He -- 

"You can have it, Dickie. Anytime you want." 

"No, I mean -- you guys *like* each other, and you've had sex, and even made love. You're *friends*." 

Dinah grins at him wryly. "Yeah, I guess we are, at that." 

Which is more than worth the squeeze he gives her before pulling away, but -- "I wanna be more than just your friend, Dickie." 

"Oh. I. Oh." 

The Fox tickles Dickie's chin a little. "It's starting to sink in, isn't it?" 

Dickie nods -- and shivers. 

"Like we said, beautiful -- we're ready, willing, and *able* to wait forever for you --" 

"You don't -- have to," and Dickie frowns again, and that fucking *hurts* -- 

So... so very much. 

Yeah, Brucie, I -- but we can do this. 

Yes. 

The Fox nods and smiles ruefully. "You're starting to *feel* what we want, and it's -- it's freaking you out." 

Dickie opens his mouth -- 

The Fox holds up a hand. "Don't lie to us. Anything but that." 

Dickie *blushes* --"Um. I'm sorry." 

"You didn't actually do it, so that's okay. I promise," the Fox says, and pulls on a smile -- 

"Don't lie to *me*, *either*, Fox!" 

The Fox sucks in a breath and searches Dickie -- and nods. 

And clenches his hands into fists for a minute. 

Just a minute. "Yeah, okay. No lies. No -- not ever if we can *possibly* help it, and right now we can. So --" The Fox shakes his head and pushes a hand back through his hair again. "We can't risk you. We can't -- we're in love with you, Dickie, and we'll do anything for you. And anything for the *chance* to have your love. So, here's your answer: no fear. No shame. No -- no *bargaining*, because I swear by everything and everyone I care about, I swear by *you*, Dickie -- you'll always get every part of us. We'll always be right. *Here*. Do you understand?" 

The pulse is hammering in Dickie's throat again -- 

He's -- he's so *scared* -- 

We. We said too much. 

Yeah. Yeah. The Fox closes his eyes. He can't -- 

"*No* --" and Dickie's throwing himself at the Fox just like that, Dickie's in his arms, and kissing him all over his *face* -- 

"Dickie --" 

"It's okay, it's okay, I *promise* it's okay," and Dickie wraps his arms around the Fox's neck -- 

Dickie wraps his legs around the Fox's *waist* -- 

"I promise. I -- I'll *wait*, and I --" Dickie pulls back enough that the Fox can *see* him biting his lip -- 

Dickie claws the Fox's *face* a little -- 

"Please, Dickie --" 

"I -- I won't tease and I won't ask unless I really *need* you. Okay?" 

The Fox shudders all over -- 

And Bruce rises enough to rest his forehead against Dickie's own, so clear and warm -- 

"Oh... Bruce?" 

"Yes." 

"I -- is Fox okay?" 

God, for just -- one more *touch* -- 

Anything. Anything, at all. And Bruce kisses Dick's cheek. "You've warmed him immensely, Dick." 

"And... you?" 

Bruce smiles. "You've given both of us hope. We... you mustn't ever try to force yourself --" 

"I *won't*. I -- and you don't... don't force yourself to act happy or whatever around me if you don't feel that way. Okay?" 

Bruce kisses Dick's other cheek. "As you say." 

"I want. Um." 

"Ask." 

"Can I -- can we sleep together sometimes? *Just* sleep." 

"I would welcome that with all of myself." 

"And -- you just seem like you *would* be cuddly." 

Bruce smiles *wryly*. "Harvey compared it to sleeping with a two-hundred-thirty-pound teddy bear. I weigh somewhat more than that now... but you can always kick me if I'm keeping you from breathing." 

Dick giggles and pushes at Bruce's face -- 

And Bruce kisses his fingertips. Only once. 

"I like -- I like when you do that." 

"You have wonderfully well-worked hands. And speaking of work..." 

Dick cups Bruce's face and kisses him hard. His lips are parted only slightly, and so Bruce restrains himself to doing the same -- 

And continues to restrain himself when Dick touches Bruce's lips with the tip of his tongue before twisting and leaping nimbly down out of his arms. 

"Gotta *pee*, I'll be right back!"

God, so beautiful -- 

Yes. 

And -- maybe ours someday. 

Perhaps. Bruce looks to Dinah -- and she's shrugging her t-shirt back on. "I'm afraid I've been remiss as a host... but." 

"You're allowed. God, I -- I should've known it wouldn't be an *average* kid who would make you start thinking charitably about Clark." 

"I wonder... I wonder how many 'average' children there truly are." 

Dinah raises her eyebrows. "*Lots*, Bruce. Lots and lots and *lots*." 

"Hm." 

"I *was* one, you know. Well, kinda." 

Bruce raises his own eyebrow. 

"*Most* kids like watching people beat the crap out of other people and learning how to do the crap-beating themselves. I did a survey and everything." 

Bruce hums and moves close, cupping Dinah's waist. "And the sample size?" 

Dinah -- cups Bruce's groin. "I'd say about --"

"Wayne, I *found* them," Kent says -- from approximately three feet away. "Hello, Dinah." 

Dinah snorts. "*Hello*, Clark. Found *who*?" 

Bruce moves Dinah's hand gently and squeezes it. "The assassin and his... apprentice." 

"Weh? I don't think I know this story." 

Bruce kisses Dinah's cheek. "I promise to fill you in later. For now --" 

And Kent is holding one of the Fox's uniforms. 

Dinah snorts. "I -- should I stick around for Dickie?" 

"I don't need a babysitter! I -- oh my *God*!" And Dick freezes by the table, eyes wide and jaw somewhat *dropped*. 

Bruce hums and begins to strip. "Clark Kent, meet Dick Grayson; Dick Grayson, meet Clark Kent." 

"Um. Um. Um." 

Kent pulls on his most professional demeanor. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grayson." 

"And -- you -- *Superman*!" 

Kent *chuckles* -- 

And the Fox can't help but rise for that. "Okay, Kent, I appreciate your being on your best behavior -- words can't *express* how much I appreciate that -- but you don't have to go *that* far." 

Kent *flashes* him an irritated look -- 

The Fox winks as he eases on his jock. "I trust you." 

And the irritated look changes to something else altogether before Kent nods once and turns back to Dick. "I'm truly just a man, Dick -- may I call you Dick?" 

Dick nods slowly and *unblinkingly* -- 

And Kent smiles. "Then please call me Clark. As I was saying, I'm just --" 

"Uh. No. You -- you're kind of the definition of 'not just a man.' I mean, if you're just a man? Then *Bruce* is just a man. And -- really no." 

Hm. I'm not sure how I feel about him putting us in the same category as *Kent*. 

No, you're *absolutely* sure that you want to get Kent *away* from Dick as soon as *possible*. 

Hm. Dress faster. 

Uh, huh -- 

Dinah snaps her fingers -- and gestures for Fox to move around in front of her. She's got her back to Clark and Dick -- 

Well, then. The Fox eases his way over. 

Dinah mouths: 'All better?' 

The Fox mouths: 'Maybe. We'll see.'

'*Make* it better,' and she emphasizes with a gesture that means she's either about to nerve strike him or sound his dick. 

I would like to try that someday -- 

*Later*, Brucie --

'*Fox*.' 

'Easy, *easy*, I'll be good.' 

Dinah raises her eyebrows. 

'I *promise*,' and the Fox draws an X over his heart before nodding over *there*, where he's generously allowing Kent to lift a giggling Dickie with his damned pinky instead of feeding on Dickie's hungry looks for the Fox's conveniently near-naked body. 

I'm not sure all of that can come through in a nod, Fox. 

Aren't you supposed to be the optimistic one? 

I'm... not sure. 

Oh. Hunh. The Fox shakes it off and finishes dressing at speed -- and then he has to make a choice. He rubs his lead-lined pocket through the sash -- 

And Dinah frowns curiously for a moment before her eyes widen and she starts jabbing her fingers at him again. 

The Fox pushes at the air a little and winces. "If you fine folks will excuse me, I gotta go see a man about a rock."

Kent looks up for that, and there's so much in his eyes -- 

Bruce rises and tries to say his own variety of everything with a solemn nod -- 

Kent swallows and then begins flying Dick around the far side of the gym. It -- 

He moves for the locked compartment and punches in the code that will open it. It's lead-lined, and there are more lead-lined compartments *in* it. He has to teach Dick the codes. 

He has to teach Dick the *importance* of the codes -- 

But not today. 

He spares a moment to stroke the case of Lex's knives, and then slips the small chunk of kryptonite out of his sash and places it in the case he has set aside for the few extra chunks he had picked up in his travels. 

As always when he's in here, he wonders if he should be doing this more like Lex, who has teams of well-trained exogeologists -- he had created the field *personally* -- hunting for and studying the various sorts of kryptonite all over the *world*. 

For now... 

For now, they are about to battle a large, powerful man who had made himself into a weapon, and had spent more years *honing* himself than, possibly, Bruce *has* years. 

They cannot risk giving him *more* weapons to use against them, and so Bruce removes all but one of his firebombs, as well. 

He keeps every last one of his knives. 

When he's done, he feels much too light and *unprepared* -- 

But he's ready. He closes the compartment, locks it down, centers himself at speed -- 

And Kent is right there, holding his cape out. 

The Fox smirks. "Go on, rough-and-tough. *Hide* me from prying eyes." 

Kent waits *just* long enough to give him an *annoyed* look before wrapping Bruce from the top of his head to the tops of his boots -- 

"Bye, guys! I'll tell Alfred you're -- somewhere!" 

"Kick ass, Fox! And -- um. Superman!" 

They fly -- 

And there is the usual moment of weightless, wordless *terror* -- 

The shift in pressure he can't feel *anywhere* save his ankles, and what is the damned cape *made* of? 

No, now isn't the time for questions like that. "Where, Superman?" 

"An unincorporated area outside of Chongzuo," Kent says, and Bruce isn't in the least surprised to discover that Kent had toggled the comm in his ear sometime when he wasn't paying attention. 

"Terrain?" 

"Forested and mountainous. There are certain trees there which smell strongly enough to distract me from gun oil. How *are* you at high altitudes?" 

"Terrified, usually." 

"Fox." 

"Heh. I'll be fine. I'll take a hit of oxygen as soon as we touch down -- unless you can drop us on top of the bastard?" 

"I'd *like* to. He -- he just started beating her again." 

"*Superman* --" 

"If I fly any faster, you'll die messily. I find that prospect a lot less attractive than I used to." 

The Fox snorts despite himself, but -- "Drop me, and let me get him good and distracted." 

"Fox --" 

"If he doesn't have *time* to go for his kryptonite, blah *blah*." 

"He... he's really quite *ruthless*, Fox --" 

"I picked that *up* --" 

"He might be *better* than you --" 

"And you'll be *right* there to back me up, and -- and this is my favorite part of the plan, so pay attention -- *not* writhing in agony on the ground. What's the weather?" 

"I -- misty. Fox --" 

"Are you powered up?" 

"I'm never particularly *de-powered* -- ah." 

"Really." 

"Well, kryptonite *weakens* me, of course --" 

"How *much* --" 

"It's -- perhaps more of a *sickening* --" 

"Superman." 

Kent blows out an irritated breath. "If *you* were gifted with powers honestly terrifying in their scope, would *you* advertise?" 

The Fox shows his teeth. 

"Oh -- don't --" 

"Don't *what*?" 

"Don't -- you were going to *trust* me." 

"I'm in your arms, aren't I?" 

"Fox, *please*." 

Fox... 

Oh, *come* on, Brucie! He just *admitted* playing possum!

Not *quite* -- 

Are you gonna split hairs about this? 

I think they're very *important* hairs -- 

"You... I can smell a great deal of... conflict?" 

The Fox growls -- 

And Bruce *yanks* him close and spins him around, and -- 

Brucie, why are we in the *billiards* room? 

I don't know. Why do we *have* a billiards room? 

Because you decided I should be *good* at it -- 

"I... Fox...?" 

The Fox snarls internally and snaps a pool cue in half, then snaps the pieces in half, then snaps *those* pieces -- he fixes it again. We can't *trust* him!

But we must. 

For -- for individual missions -- 

Fox, it's simple battlefield psychology -- 

I don't wanna hear it. 

*Fox*! 

"We -- we'll be there in two minutes --" 

The Fox leans over a cherrywood table and breaks, sending balls into all six holes -- 

Very impressive, and Bruce wipes the room to blackness. Listen to me. 

I -- fine. If he's going to persist in being the most powerful creature -- 

Man. 

\-- in *parsecs*, then it stands to reason that... 

*Finish*, Fox! 

He needs to be *monitored* -- 

And how better to do that than by *befriending* him? 

The Fox crosses his arms over his chest -- 

Fox, I'm reasonably sure that *I'm* the childish one. 

You get to be the childish one all the *time*!

Fox. Think of Dick. 

I *am* thinking of him. He -- he'll have no one to *protect* him -- 

Unless we make of Kent -- of *Clark* -- an ally for the ages. 

The Fox glares -- 

But all Bruce does is reach out with his palm up. He's even wearing the linen suit the Fox likes best. 

He -- we don't even know if *Kent* is *willing* -- 

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. 

And then builds an Alfred construct which raises *both* eyebrows at him. 

And then builds an *army* of eyebrow-raising Alfreds -- 

The Fox snorts helplessly. 

"That... sounds promising?" 

The Fox slaps Bruce's palm and then grips it. You win this round. 

Bruce smiles. I think you'll find that we both do. 

Oh. Oh, no, you *want* him! 

Pay attention, Fox... and Bruce sinks -- 

And Kent *squeezes* him. Gently. 

"I'm all right." 

"Ah... yes?" 

"*Yes* -- yes," the Fox says, and blows out a breath. "I -- sorry about that." 

"It's quite all right. It's... it's not that I don't understand... caution." 

"What was it like to grow up with powers like those, Superman. Honestly." 

"Frightening, exhilarating, liberating in the best and worst possible ways, and... lonely." 

"I was afraid you'd say that." 

"Is there anything of me you *don't* fear?" And Kent's voice is -- low. Sad. *Hopeless* -- 

The Fox shakes his head as much as he can. "Let's... let's just say that other parts of me have other issues entirely." 

"With me?" 

"With the *world*--" 

Fox. 

"And -- not with you." Okay? *Satisfied*? 

Hm. Perhaps someday soon. 

*Augh* -- 

"Not... with me?" 

"Not with *you* --" 

"Do you --" 

"I *mean* it. *Christ*. And we're going with my plan." 

"Yes, of course. Oh -- oh, Fox --" 

"Tell me *later*. Tell *him* later." 

"Yes -- ten seconds." 

The Fox centers himself again, using the quick and dirty method of focusing on what kind of terror hard-on he's *about* to have -- 

What the blood of a child abuser is gonna *smell* like -- 

And Kent whips the cape free and sends the Fox spinning and tumbling. He sees: 

Shack. 

Cliff. 

Cain. 

Blood -- 

He's down, and his first knife goes wild as Cain flips out of the way -- 

His second knife gets blocked -- 

And Cain shoots Constance in the leg. He.

The Fox's next two knives hit their mark and the gun is tumbling down the side of the mountain and Constance isn't screaming isn't crying -- 

Constance is *bleeding* -- 

And Kent is right there -- getting shot out of the sky with what really *wasn't* a flare gun -- 

And the Fox has just enough time to see Kent coughing what certainly *looks* like way too much fucking *blood* before Cain's pulling two more guns and it's time to move, to -- 

He can't worry about either of them now. He can't -- 

Cain doesn't say a word before he starts shooting, but there's cover in the form of a whole lot of unstable looking rocks -- 

Kent just *coughed* again -- 

Cain's staying too close to Constance and Kent for the firebomb to be a possibility -- so he can damned well *move* him. The Fox scrambles, wasting three knives to lay down the cover he needs to get closer to the shack --

\-- where there's what's approximately one full shitload of kryptonite. He's *got* to get Kent *away* from here -- 

But first he can throw a few smoke pellets and use his infrared lenses to cut through the haze -- 

There, Cain is still and studying, listening -- 

He's made himself a small target by an outcropping -- 

And the only decent shot the Fox has would involve stabbing the bastard in the *eye*. Unacceptable. 

Is it? 

*Bruce* -- 

He's a murderer many times over. He just shot the world's greatest hero. He just shot an innocent *child*!

*Fuck*, Bruce, let me -- 

*Work*, by all means, but -- 

I'm not *hearing* this, and the Fox tosses and deliberately moves out of range -- 

The knife clatters off the rock and there are bullets screaming through the air -- 

There's a *bubbling* sound coming from Kent -- 

Constance, Fox. Constance is too frightened to *cry*!

Yeah, well, I don't *have* the shot -- 

But you will again -- 

And Cain is crouching again, spinning -- 

The Fox tosses more smoke pellets -- 

And Constance coughs. Just once. Just -- 

A sharp hack followed by a *wheeze* -- 

And Cain draws a bead on her in one smooth, terrible -- 

The Fox roars and rises, staying a target for long enough to draw Cain's fire -- 

The armor takes a shot over the ribs and he's spinning -- 

Falling -- 

*Tumbling*, and he's *damned* well up with two knives -- 

And Cain can't see. 

Cain can't tell where he is. 

Cain -- is a spinning, crouching *target*. 

You know what to do, Fox. 

*Bruce* -- 

No, Fox. Not today. Not -- this creature. 

The Fox snarls and waits. 

And waits. 

*Fox* -- 

The Fox throws his voice to make it sound like it's coming from a passing hawk -- 

And Cain looks up just the way he should. Just -- 

Right. 

The Fox tosses twice, burying two knives in Cain's shoulders and two -- 

Two in his chest. He --

*Yes* -- 

Cain coughs -- and vomits blood down his entire body. He -- 

"*Cain*." 

"Thought. Thought you fell *left*, Fox." 

"Didn't. You've got a chance to live --" 

"Yeah. I do," and Cain lumbers to his feet and -- he can't lift his guns. Cain laughs -- a sound that manages to grind *wetly* -- "Ah, well." And then he's running -- 

"Cain, *stop* --" 

"I'll be back for her, Fox!" And he leaps over the edge --

Of the cliff -- 

No. No -- 

The Fox scrambles to his feet and runs -- 

*Careful*, Fox -- 

And Bruce yanks him down onto his ass just as a three foot wide hunk of shale detaches and falls -- 

And falls -- 

Into the mist --

I just killed a man. I just -- 

*Focus*! 

The Fox grunts and scrambles to his feet *again* -- Bruce. Oh, Bruce, I -- 

Bruce grips him and spins him into -- 

The billiards room -- 

The master bath -- 

The master bedroom -- 

The home theater -- 

The *spa* -- wait, what? 

I built it for Mother -- 

Bruce, you can't *do* that -- 

And you can't have a breakdown right now. 

I. I. I -- 

And Mom is there, *right* there in a thick, soft-looking robe that's just kind of *spilling* off her shoulders -- 

Her skin is so pale and *creamy* -- 

*Bruce*! 

Wake up, Fox. Constance and Clark need you. 

Mom *smiles* at him -- 

Okay. Okay. I can -- I can do this -- 

Can you? 

Just *slap* me next time, and Fox turns into the outside world. The wind is picking up and tearing the smoke cover to ribbons. 

Constance coughs again -- she's crawling toward the edge. She's -- dragging her *leg* -- 

"Constance --" 

But of course she doesn't *respond* to that. 

He moves around in front of her and drops into a crouch -- and dives sideways to avoid one of his own knives. She's got another one in her *hand* -- 

The Fox *catches* it -- 

She *snarls* at him -- 

"No one -- no one wants to hurt you," he says, and tucks the blade away. "Please -- please don't crawl over the side of the cliff. Okay?" 

She frowns at him -- 

He tries Mandarin. 

She shakes her head. 

He tries *Cantonese* -- 

She points at the cliff. *Vehemently* -- 

And Kent hasn't made a sound in -- too long. 

"Wait, please. Okay? He -- he's not coming back." 

She crawls for the side of the cliff even *faster* -- 

And the Fox lifts her carefully, gently, taking her pain-weakened kicks and strikes -- 

She can't be more than *five* -- 

"Listen to me, please," he says, and tries -- 

But Lex had said she was raised without language. What do we have without *language*? 

The Fox deliberately relaxes himself all over, *utterly* unsurprised by the fact that he suddenly wants to piss himself for, oh, all *kinds* of reasons -- "It's okay," he says, quietly, calmly --

Trying to *mean* it -- 

And she stops attacking him and -- looks him over. 

Okay. Good. He can't *smile* -- but he's thinking that'd go over like a lead balloon right now. "I'm here for *you*. I -- a friend said you *hurt*," and he tries to *feel* the words as much as say them -- "My lover wants to help you. And --" 

She points to Kent. 

"He's not --" Right. "He's one of my *other* lovers. I. I have to help him now. Can I trust you not to go over the edge?" 

She tries to look over his shoulder. She -- 

"I'm gonna pull you close, okay? It's just to keep you safe." 

She gives him a confused look. 

He tugs against her -- 

And she -- hugs him. Or -- no. It's not a hug. It's a *grip*. Because -- 

Because Cain had held her just like this at least once. Held her -- to do what? 

We can't know. 

Bruce -- 

Stay... clear, Fox. We must keep her calm. 

Yeah. Yeah. Okay. 

He walks them over to about three feet from the edge, watching and *feeling* for damaged and unstable ground -- 

And she looks. 

And looks. 

And *looks*. 

And doesn't look at him until he starts to tense, and -- 

She's weeping. She's -- silent and terrible and *hurting* -- 

"I'm so sorry, Constance --" But can she recognize a name by tonal shifts? That's not really how language *works* in this part of the world, or... 

Does she *have* a name? 

The Fox points to his own chest. "Fox. I'm the *Fox* --" 

"Cassandra!" And she thumps her own chest hard enough to *bruise* -- 

"That -- hey. Okay. Cassandra --" 

She points over the side and -- her eyes are *pleading* -- "Nuh! *Nuh*!" 

"Cassandra, I." The Fox shakes his head and swallows. He --

His *own* eyes are prickling and -- 

Let it out, Fox. 

We -- there's no *time* -- 

She must. She must see this. Flip your lenses.

He does. He does, and -- "Oh -- *God* -- Cassandra, I'm so sorry. I never would've -- if there'd been another *way* --" 

And she pats at his face. His cheeks, his forehead, the corners of his eyes -- 

She shakes her head and points over the side -- 

The Fox squeezes his eyes shut and *sobs* -- 

"Nuhhh! NUHHHH!" This time, she's not trying to hurt him when she beats at him. 

She's trying to make us stop, Fox. 

The Fox sucks in a breath and opens his eyes -- 

She pats at his cheeks almost *frantically* -- 

She was... she was almost certainly punished -- 

God, fuck, the way he drew a bead on her -- 

Yes. 

But -- he focuses. He can focus, and -- "He's gone, Cassandra. He's dead." 

She rears back -- and then slumps, eyes losing their life and emotion, body as limp as a rag doll's -- and it's a question. 

"Yeah. I'm --" 

She covers the Fox's mouth with a small, hard, grimy hand, and this time her entire body is an *urgent* question -- 

We'll take you, he thinks. 

We'll *keep* you. 

My lover wants to *hold* you. 

My lover *dreams* of you -- 

She pats his mouth and nods. And begins to cry silently once more. It's -- 

It's enough to let him move toward Kent's body. His -- 

God, Bruce is *lurching* within him, Bruce is *shivering* -- 

And Kent's color is still good. He's bleeding, but it's slow. He's -- 

There's a kryptonite *bolt* in his chest -- 

The Fox shakes his head and drops to his knees, pulling a blade -- 

And Cassandra yanks it out of his hand and digs the bolt out in one smooth move. That -- 

She looks a question at him. 

The Fox blinks and nods, taking the bolt and -- tucking it into his lead-lined pocket. He'll have one of the Lanterns or someone come here and pick up the rest. He -- 

Kent coughs, flushing hard and *fast*, blinking and murmuring -- 

"I've got you, Superman. I -- I'm gonna have to drag you away from here --" 

"Fox, where --" 

"Her name is Cassandra, Superman. She. She's coming home with us." 

"I... seventy feet. And I'll be... able..." 

The Fox nods and stands, gripping the back of Kent's ridiculously thin uniform and standing. It's awkward with Cassandra on his other hip, but possible. Especially since Kent starts being able to kick them along once they've gotten *twenty* feet away. 

At seventy-three or so, Kent groans, shudders, and staggers to his feet. And smiles at Cassandra. "I meant to make a better showing, but... I'm very glad to see you." 

Cassandra cocks her head to the side and reaches out to pat at Kent's cheeks, his jaw, his mouth -- and she recoils. 

Kent frowns -- "I'm sorry -- " 

"*Don't* soften yourself for her. She -- I believe she can read lies *extremely* well." 

Kent nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose that does make a great deal of sense. Here," he says, and gently brings her hand to his mouth again. 

She prods it hesitantly -- 

She *jabs* it -- 

She *punches* it -- and then she nods. 

And Kent smiles. "I must confess to being rather eager to see her do that to Luthor." 

"Superman." 

"Hm...? What was that?"

The Fox snorts helplessly -- 

And Kent smiles -- brightly. "Let me bring Cassandra to Wake General in Metropolis. Luthor *endowed* the children's wing there, after all. I'll let *you* notify him when I bring you back." 

"No, she shouldn't be alone. I know you can't stand him --" 

"Will *he* know how to communicate with her?" 

The Fox smiles wryly. "He's the one who gave *me* the clues, Superman." 

Kent sighs. "All right. Give me fifteen minutes." 

The Fox nods and drops into a crouch. The bruise over his ribs feels at least four inches wide, and the pain suggests that at least one of his ribs is cracked, if not quite entirely broken. 

He'll teach Dick how to tape him -- or Alfred will. 

He'll -- 

He's already walking, of course. He checks out the shack and finds a stockpile of weapons to go with all the kryptonite. There are clothes, too, and canned foods, and blankets, and -- traps. 

Cain had planned to stay here for a while, and supplement their diet with, perhaps, rabbits or other small animals. 

Cassandra is small and thin, but *not* obviously malnourished. Cain himself is -- 

Had been --

And, yeah, he's already walking, closer and closer to the edge until a part of him can *feel* Cain dragging himself back up the cliff-face, until *another* part of him is surrendering to the urge, the *need* to just -- 

Take a step. 

*Fox*!

I killed a man. 

I *told* you to -- 

Yeah. You did. And -- I listened. 

He didn't have to die -- 

I *buried* those knives in his chest -- 

He might have simply been wounded for a time, or disabled enough that he could no longer ply his *trade* -- 

He's *dead*, Bruce! 

*He* chose to leap over the side. You -- we agreed, years ago, that we would not berate ourselves for the injuries of those criminals who chose to run unwisely rather than surrender -- 

Death is more than an *injury*, Bruce -- 

And shooting a child is more than *abuse*. We -- we crossed a line -- 

*Yes* -- 

I will not deny that, and it was wrong for me to even try. It... Bruce rises enough to walk them away from the edge, away from the shack full of weapons and old pain -- 

Further up the mountain -- whichever one it will turn out to be -- is better. There are hints of a trail here and there, though not one that looks especially well-used. There is what appears to be a goat track, and it's impossible not to wonder where those shepherds had gone. 

How long had Cain been using this area? He'd been seen in other places recently, of course, and it's *possible* that everything in that shack had been a recent addition... 

But the track is overgrown in spots, and men like Cain tended to *cultivate* their bolt-holes. And -- 

I killed a man. 

Fox... 

How... how will we explain that to Dickie? To *Harvey*? To *Dinah*? 

With honesty -- 

This -- this isn't how we're supposed to be heroes, Bruce. Even Kent is gonna have something to say about this -- 

*Clark*... didn't follow orders. Or his own protocol, as he had to have known about the kryptonite in the area. 

And you think that's enough? 

Bruce leans them against a tree which is at least one hundred years old, judging by its girth. I think we did what was necessary -- 

Death is *never* -- 

Fox. 

The Fox growls and forms their bedroom around himself. He's sitting on the edge off the bed with his face in his hands -- 

His uniform is as rumpled and mussed as it is in the *outside* world. Bruce fixes it -- 

The Fox rumples it again -- 

And so Bruce joins him on the bed, pulling him close and laying them down together. For a long moment, the Fox is tensed and curled in on himself, but eventually he lets Bruce soothe him into lying on his back. 

He doesn't move his hands from in front of his face, though. 

Fox, you must -- 

I try -- The Fox's voice is thick and low -- he clears his throat. I try to remind myself that we're one person. 

Yes, Fox? 

I try... I try to tell myself that *you're* okay with this, so I should be, too. 

I am not... Bruce shakes his head and curls his fingers in against the Fox's chest. You mustn't think I don't admire your morality. 

What are we gonna do if Dickie winds up thinking killing is the right *way*?

We will teach him otherwise -- 

He can *smell* hypocrisy -- 

It isn't hypocrisy if we truly feel that killing is wrong. 

You *don't* -- 

Think about it for a moment, Fox. Please.

The Fox drags his hands down from his face -- he has given himself the rough, uneven stubble which tends to require them working hard enough and long enough to have had to shave on the *street*. He looks... distinctly disreputable. 

Bruce drags them to the small barber shop Father had favored when Bruce was a boy and pulls out a straight razor and bowl of foam. 

Bruce... 

The Fox has an image to uphold, and Bruce begins applying the foam. 

You don't think -- 

Yes? 

The Fox shakes his head slowly, and with small, even motions. 

Good. Bruce begins to shave him, as slowly and gently as possible. 

You *do* think it was wrong to kill him. 

I am angry with him for... many reasons. One of those reasons involves him forcing us to use lethal force. 

Forcing -- 

He might have surrendered, or attempted to negotiate. 

We were taking his *child* -- 

We were taking his apprentice and victim -- 

Some people don't draw the *line* there -- 

That -- is not our problem, and Bruce leans in for the close work required around the Fox's mustache. We will use today to teach Dick, Fox. We will talk to him about the importance of being able to trust one's allies to follow orders, and about the pain... the pain of failure. 

The Fox shudders. I -- he's -- 

Dead. Dead, when he might've been in a hospital recovering from his wounds -- 

I don't. I don't ever wanna sleep. 

Bruce pauses before starting on the Fox's right cheek. You're afraid of being haunted. 

I can smell his *blood*, Bruce! 

Let me be haunted, brother. 

No. No, I can't -- 

Give me this, Fox. It is my due. 

The Fox's expression is bleak, dark and full of *need* -- 

Oh, Fox... Bruce shakes his head and shaves away the rest of the foam and stubble. You could never be so dark, so lost to justice as this -- 

Not -- not *you*. Not you, *either* -- 

You are the hero, Fox. I... I am your brother, and I am a civilian. Civilians make choices heroes cannot. This is, I believe, as close to something which can be called a 'natural order' as possible. 

The Fox frowns and stares at their reflections in the mirror. 

For a moment, there are more chairs than just this one, and, in the one next to them, Father is laughing softly as he reads a particularly astute political cartoon in the Herald. 

The Fox reaches out toward *Father's* reflection -- 

And Father looks up, sharp and somewhat cold. He -- he could never approve. 

No, I. I knew that already. 

Bruce nods and brushes Father away before cupping the Fox's shoulders. Give this to me. 

I'm. I'm so afraid. 

Of my pain? 

The Fox nods slowly, eyes as wide as a child's. 

For this, Fox, my pain is my own. 

Brother -- 

*Brother*. My pain is my own. 

I can't -- fail you. 

Bruce smiles ruefully and wipes the Fox's face with warm towels. No, you can't. 

Bruce -- Brucie, we're *changing*.

Yes, I believe we are. Just the same, we will... we will endure. 

The Fox shudders and closes his eyes, clutching at the arms of the chair. 

Fox... 

The Fox gasps and *snarls* -- and then subsides, blinking damp eyes open and pleading into Bruce's eyes. 

I believe -- I *must* believe -- that all of this is leading us to places where we need to be. 

But -- you *are* the optimistic one? 

Bruce smiles sharply and strokes down the bridge of the Fox's nose. Or so you said. 

The laugh seems to *punch* its way out of the Fox -- 

Bruce smiles helplessly -- 

And then they are laughing together as the barber shop melts away, as they stand in the black, as they *listen* -- 

The Fox sighs. He's coming back. 

So he is. Are you ready...? 

The Fox stands and shakes out his limbs before rolling his head on his neck. I'm *always* ready, Brucie. 

Hmm. Just the same... 

Yeah, yeah, give the big, alien freak a thrill. 

Oh... yes. 

Just don't *fuck* him, yet! We have *business* to take care of tonight. 

As you say. And Bruce stands straight and waits -- not long. 

Clark lands in front of him, still dressed in the torn and stained uniform, for all that his flesh is fully-knitted once more. Or... 

Bruce reaches to touch the flesh where the bolt had been. There is a *whisper* of a scar which a part of Bruce's mind insists is fading as he watches, and the flesh is -- warm. 

Incredibly warm. Hm.

Bruce lifts Clark's hand and tests the temperature of his palm and wrist -- no noticeable differences -- 

"I... Wayne?" 

Bruce smiles and presses two fingers to the pulse point on Clark's wrist -- 

And Clark's breathing hitches. "I." 

"Call me Bruce... while we remain this close to alone." 

"Then -- you must --" 

"Clark." 

Clark *grunts*, eyes abruptly -- very full. 

"You've had a great deal of time, subjectively, to analyze my actions and reactions." 

"Yes." 

"To... respond emotionally to them?" 

Clark smiles ruefully, *hotly* -- "And physically. Additionally... I can smell you." 

Bruce nods once. "Please, tell me --" 

"The bullet nicked Cassandra's tibia, and there are older breaks..." Clark shakes his head once. "She's been brutally abused, Bruce, but, somehow, she seems more healthy than not. The bullet passed through otherwise cleanly. She'll have to try to stay off her feet for at least a week, but after that she should recover normally. Ah -- physically normally." 

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment and nods. "Lex...?" 

"What is -- would you tell me --" Clark frowns *thunderously* for a moment and stares down at the ground. 

"Hm. I take it he was less than... genial." 

Clark blows out a breath and looks up. "Would it count as a step backward for the two of us if I admitted to hoping that Cassandra would break at least a couple of his ribs?" 

Bruce laughs quietly. "He has always been... unique." 

"Unique is *one* thing. He --" Clark growls and folds his hands together viciously. "You -- care about him. I won't -- I won't speak ill." 

"I appreciate that, Clark, but I'm fully aware that your relationship with him has been rather... fraught." 

"Yes, well, I only *rarely* get along with people who repeatedly try to *kill* me and -- what is the *appeal*?" 

"I --" 

"No, no, I'm sorry, I was -- I was filling you *in*," Clark says, frowning at himself and looking away once more. He... 

Bruce removes his left glove, reaches up, and cups Clark's smooth cheek, stroking the cheekbone -- 

And then Clark is holding Bruce's hand there -- 

Clark is breathing on Bruce's palm -- 

Clark is whispering in a language Bruce can't *guess* at -- 

Clark -- kisses the center of Bruce's palm. 

Several times. He -- 

"Clark..." 

" -- and furthermore -- and furthermore, I've wanted to make love with you for *years*, and I promise -- I promise that I would please you, and fill you, and *give* you --" 

"Give me what?" 

Clark looks pained for a moment -- 

Desperately aroused for another -- 

"If you were ever interested -- no. If you were ever moved to *act* on the interest I can *smell*, then I would give you all of myself, because there is no love without risk, and my fear for this, though large and painful, is *petty*." 

Bruce frowns -- 

Clark gasps -- 

"I -- you must not *fear* me --" 

"Dinah is correct," Clark says, and kisses his way up Bruce's palm and along his fingers. "Fear is the only *reasonable* response to a man like you, a man so strong and convicted and *conflicted*." Clark smiles wryly and *licks* Bruce's fingers. "I can't read your mind -- though I've tried extensively. I don't know what you say to yourself when you're arguing so powerfully that your countenance seems to -- to pull shadows from every possible *corner*. I just know that you *are* arguing, and that you do it more, and more severely, than *anyone* else in the community." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh -- not right now, of course. Which makes me --" Clark smiles again. "The fact that you're allowing this *without* coming to blows within the confines of your mind makes me -- thrilled. Beyond all reason and sense. I *know* you're dangerously troubled. I *know* you're in love with a murderer and would do any number of things *for* him. I *know* that a part of you considered just letting me die today --" 

"No." 

Clark raises his own eyebrows. "No...? Not even the Fox...?" 

"The Fox... the Fox is deeply wounded by what happened today." 

Clark cocks his head to the side -- and kisses Bruce's fingers again. "I, of course, saw nothing --" 

"Clark. Not that." 

Clark lifts his truly impressive chin and *searches* Bruce. 

"I *ordered* the Fox to use his knives that way. He... had something of a breakdown." 

"But not you." 

Bruce tugs his fingers away from Clark's grip. "I'm not a hero. I... am only a man." 

And *that* -- makes Clark look pained again. 

"Clark --" 

"I was starting to think I *understood* you!" 

That -- Bruce laughs and pinches the bridge of nose -- 

"*Honestly*, Wayne --" 

"Bruce. Please." 

"*Bruce*, then. Who -- how crazy *are* you?" 

Bruce laughs *harder* -- 

"*Tell* me! *Please*!" 

Bruce sighs and looks up again, cupping Clark's face and pulling him in -- 

"Oh -- you --" 

"I don't want you dead, Clark." 

"Then --" 

"I'm rather exceedingly attracted to you," and Bruce breathes against Clark's mouth. 

"Ohn -- *Bruce* --" 

"I'm very, very, *very* crazy. And I promise to do something about it once functionality slips," Bruce says, and licks Clark's mouth, stiffening for the feel of how *hard* he is, how -- 

There's no *give* to his mouth -- 

"Clark..." And Bruce kisses him, shoves his hands into his thick, terrifyingly perfect hair, slips his tongue *in* -- 

Clark grunts and staggers -- 

Bruce shoves Clark back against a convenient tree, slipping one hand out of Clark's hair and cupping his hip with it -- 

Clark moans Bruce's *name* -- 

Bruce squeezes and tugs and *thrusts*, hips and tongue -- 

And Clark is terrifyingly, *thrillingly* hard against his thigh. Subjective time... 

But how could any act of lovemaking with a human be anything but torture? 

This is probably not the best time to ask. 

Fox -- 

Yeah, yeah, I'm *curious*. *Sue* me. 

Hmm. Doubtful. Bruce slips his gloved fingers inside Clark's trunks and tights, using the texturing on the smooth bowl of his hip -- 

Clark whimpers and sucks Bruce's *tongue* -- gently. Carefully, despite how much he's *shaking*. 

Okay, ask *that* question -- 

Bruce pulls back -- 

"Oh -- no --" 

"Tell me about your control, Clark." 

"The kryptonite is close enough --" 

"*Clark*." 

Clark groans and winces, banging his head back against the tree -- 

Bark cracks and the tree itself *creaks* -- 

And Bruce strokes Clark's hip just a little more roughly. "Clark." 

"*Nnh* -- I haven't lost control since I broke my bed masturbating when I was -- when I was thirteen. Not like this." 

"That is... inhuman." 

"Yes, *well*?" And when Clark opens his eyes, the irises are bright *red* -- and painful to look at. 

"As you say," and Bruce leans in and licks Clark's cheek -- 

And his other cheek -- 

And the space just beneath his lower lip -- 

"Bruce, *please* --" 

"I'd like... to make you come." 

"It won't -- it won't take *long* -- *oh* --" 

"I suppose there are benefits to your uniform being so... thin," Bruce says, and tugs the shorts and tights down just a little further -- 

"My -- oh, Bruce, *please* --" 

"What have you imagined of me, Clark?" 

"Your -- your hands are *hard* --" 

"So are yours --" 

"Yours aren't *smooth*. I've -- I've seen the *damage* --" 

"You've paid attention." 

Clark laughs and rolls his head back and forth. "Wouldn't you?" 

"Perhaps," Bruce says, and removes his other glove, cupping Clark's large, heavy scrotum with one hand and the base of his penis with the other -- 

"Oh -- *please* --" 

"Clark..." 

"You -- you'll know every *nuance* of Dick's body before long --" 

Bruce grunts and touches his tongue to his upper lip. 

And Clark smiles *broadly*. With his eyes glowing, it's more than a little frightening. 

Be *careful*, Brucie. 

Yes. Bruce squeezes with both hands -- 

Clark's mouth falls open on a moan and he arches into Bruce's touch -- 

"Tell me, Clark..." 

"He's *beautiful*. His body, his mouth, his -- mm. His clever little hands." 

"He's --" 

"Yours...? I promised I wouldn't interfere and I meant it. *You* were the one who wanted me to have a *personality* with him." 

"Your -- the bland, benign, alien savior act --" 

"Is *highly* unpalatable to *everyone* with a functioning mind, yes, I know. But he's *useful* for discouraging all but the most *perverse* crushes. I -- please, Bruce. Please pleasure me." 

"Like this...?" And Bruce begins to stroke and squeeze rhythmically, *forcefully* -- 

"*Ohn* -- oh, *Bruce* --" 

"You can feel... every flaw in the surface of my skin...?" 

Clark grunts again and nods frantically, licks his lips -- 

"Tell me --" 

"More -- please, more --" 

Bruce presses close and kisses Clark again, shuddering for the feel of Clark moaning into his mouth, Clark coaxing Bruce's tongue in and *in* -- 

Oh, yeah... 

Yes. Bruce squeezes *hard* with both hands -- 

Clark *shouts* -- 

And Bruce begins *taking* Clark's mouth with his tongue, as slowly and viciously as he can -- 

Clark clutches Bruce's shoulders -- 

Clark shouts again and clutches the *tree*, punches his fingers into the wood -- 

Bruce pulls back and strokes and squeezes faster. "Very impressive --" 

"Please -- oh, please --" 

"You're tempting me --" 

"I certainly *hope* so," Clark says, laughing brightly, gasping and *moaning* -- 

"Hmm. Would you like to know what you're tempting me *to*...?" 

"Oh -- ah. Mm. Perhaps some degree of sexualized dominance...?" And Clark sounds *hopeful* -- 

And he's smiling and nodding -- 

Bruce laughs helplessly -- and spins Clark around, pulling his arm up behind his back and exposing -- "Your buttocks are -- glorious." 

"Not like Dick's..." 

"Clark." 

"But *you* haven't -- haven't *seen* them, yet --" 

"*Clark* --" 

"I never said anything about not *looking* -- *hnh* -- oh, *yes* --" 

A finger inside him, and -- a *profound* lack of lubricant -- Bruce grits his teeth for the heat, for the *mistake*, for the *heat* -- 

"No *regrets*, Bruce, please, please just *take* me --" 

"Take you. I --" 

"I feel *everything*. I -- the pain is *negligible* --" 

"You could've just *asked*, Clark --" 

Clark laughs and hangs his head, clutching at the tree with the hand Bruce *isn't* bending up behind him. "He has a beauty mark, you know." 

Bruce *growls* -- 

Clark moans and *works* himself back on Bruce's finger -- 

"Clark..." 

"Would you -- I'll tell you where." 

"*Don't* --" 

"I'll describe it *exactly*, and --" And the rest of that is a shout. Two fingers feels like a dare, a threat for *both* of them -- 

He's so *hot* inside -- 

He's so fucking *manipulative* --

Yes, *that* -- 

God, I think *I* want him now -- 

"Please, Bruce. Please," and Clark's voice is low, *quiet* -- 

"Why *this* way?" 

Clark's laugh is *breathless* -- "Perhaps. Perhaps one of us is slightly less adept at... ah... changing streams?" 

"Clark --" 

"Bruce. *Fuck* me. Please. I -- I need to know I have a little *control* -- *ahn* -- " 

"All right. *Why* do you have a prostate gland?" 

Clark *chokes* -- "I don't *know* --" 

"Thirty-two *teeth* --" 

"Please, I --" 

"*Fingernails* --" 

"I'm a *shapeshifter*!" 

Bruce blinks and *pauses* -- 

And Clark laughs breathlessly and beats his head against the tree until chips of bark start flying everywhere. "*Please*." 

"Are you --" 

"I'm *not*. I -- parallel evolution is really --" 

"A rather terrible and lazy trope in science fiction," Bruce says, and begins thrusting hard and *fast* -- 

"I'm *sorry*! I'm -- oh, Bruce, please don't stop!" 

"Do you want my penis?" 

"*Yes* -- but not now --" 

"No...?" 

"I'll pleasure *you* --" 

"With your mouth...?" 

"Nnh -- many. Many people enjoy --" 

"Tell me about *Dinah*," Bruce says, shoving in harder and *harder* -- 

"Oh -- oh, *yes* --" 

"*Talk*, Clark --" 

"Fifteen. Coltish. Her breasts -- so *small* --" 

Bruce grunts -- "More --" 

"Her legs -- she had a bruise below her left knee -- oh, *Bruce* --" 

"Do you want me to stop...?" 

"No! Oh, please, I'll do any--" 

"*Talk*." 

"I could tell she had only made love with a few people. She told me -- eventually -- that it had only been Ted and one of the boys she went to school with. She -- the teenager sounded entirely regrettable. She was disappointed by my relative lack of body hair --"

"I, you should know, am *not*." 

Clark groans -- 

Babbles something incomprehensible at *speed* -- 

"Please -- please --" 

Bruce slows down -- 

Clark wails and *punches* a chunk of wood off the tree -- 

"*Control* --" 

"I made myself seem *harmless*. I wanted -- I wanted to encourage her confidence oh -- oh, your *fingers* --" 

"Can you clench without -- nn. I see. Don't do that again until I tell you to," Bruce says, and releases Clark's other arm.

"Yes -- all right. I --" 

"When did you show your true colors, Clark? When did she *know* you weren't harmless, at all?" 

Clark moans and reaches down to stroke himself -- 

"*No*." 

Clark shouts and shoves the fingers of both hands *into* the tree -- 

"Answer me..." 

"She. She was growing *bored* with me. Her -- her arousal was *slipping* -- please, Bruce, *faster* -- ah -- *ah* --" 

"Like this." 

Clark nods frantically again -- 

Bruce licks his lips and claws Clark's hip with his other hand. "What did you do." 

"I -- stripped her naked. I ordered the AI to tie her to the bed." 

The Fortress. Bruce shudders -- 

We are *not* going there -- 

Unless we must. 

But not for *kink* purposes -- 

"The AI *was* the bed. Wasn't it." 

Clark whimpers and nods -- 

"The AI... touched her." 

"It -- only -- only to *sample* her. Her fluids and -- it's very *curious* --" 

"Did you speak to her in Kryptonian?" 

Clark says *something* in what may very well *be* Kryptonian -- 

Bruce *stops* -- 

Clark shouts and -- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, only -- a demonstration --" 

"Very nice. What *was* it." 

"It -- roughly -- I spoke of her. Beauty and." Clark clenches -- 

"*Clark* --" 

Clark *whimpers* -- 

And does it again -- 

*Again* -- 

Bruce starts to pull out -- 

Clark shouts again -- "I told her what I would do, I told her I would take her, *use* her -- please. *Please* --" 

Bruce shoves *in* -- 

"*Bruce*! Bruce, I'm so *close* --" 

"What did you *do*." 

"*Please*, Bruce, *take* me, use *me* --" 

Bruce growls. "*Just* my fingers." 

"I don't *know* anymore --" 

"You *have* your control --" 

"It's *meaningless*, Bruce! I -- please, I'll do what you *want* --" 

"Did she...?" 

"I took her vagina with my tongue until she began to weep, and then I flipped her over and did the same to her anus -- " 

Bruce grunts and crooks his fingers, thrusting *that* way --

"I... I brought her to four -- four orgasms --" 

Bruce leans in and *bites* the side of Clark's throat -- 

Clark cries out -- "Oh, *please* --" 

Bruce growls and thrusts harder, bites *harder* -- 

"I took her with my fingers and my penis -- my. *Please* -- no, I -- I brought her to -- three more orgasms --" 

Faster, then --

"I -- I didn't -- oh, *Rao* --" And then Clark is crying out louder and *louder* -- 

Working his hips faster than Bruce can work his fingers -- 

*Demolishing* the tree -- 

And then Clark throws his head back against Bruce's shoulder and comes *shouting*, ejaculating again and again until what's *left* of the tree is decidedly... sticky. 

Hm. 

I say we come back here in a year and sample the plant life. 

Oh, Fox, you're never interested in botany -- 

I'm *still* not! But -- that's a lot of damned spunk. 

Assuming that is what it is. 

The Fox looks somewhat *green*... 

Oh, Fox. You have to admit the smell is *quite* exciting. 

Quite -- wait, since when are you *dominant*? 

I -- hm. Do you think we have time to figure that out -- 

Clark groans and leans against -- and *in* -- the shattered tree.

I'm gonna guess - probably not. 

Hm. Give the matter some thought, please.

You know it.

Bruce wraps his free arm around Clark's waist and tugs him upright slowly and gently -- 

"Oh. Oh, Bruce..." 

Bruce kisses the back of Clark's neck -- 

Clark shivers -- "I -- sincerely hope you found all that as arousing as it seems." 

"You can't smell it...?" 

"I can, but." Clark shivers and shakes the splinters out of his hair. "You could very well be thinking about Dinah. Or Dick. Or -- someone else?" 

"I assure you..." Bruce *licks* Clark's neck -- and gives himself a moment to try and fail to classify the taste beyond being *mostly* sure that he would recognize it as sweat even without context. "I assure you that my body and mind are quite focused on you at the moment." 

"Oh -- that makes me very happy." 

"Hmm. I'm curious, Clark." 

"And I... am feeling remarkably willing to answer your questions." 

Bruce hums and scratches Clark's abdomen -- 

Clark's penis twitches... dramatically. "Ah... yes?" 

"I believe you made Dinah feel very, very young." 

"Is that your question?" 

"It's... part of a question." 

Clark turns enough that Bruce can see the edge of his smile. "She told me once -- when she was quite inebriated after a night with Oliver -- that I made her remember all the things Ted Grant had told her about the importance of waiting to make love." 

No, he's *not* allowed to fuck Dick first. What are you *thinking*? 

It's only -- 

We'd lose our *minds*! 

Bruce shivers -- 

"Bruce...?" 

"Conflict. I... a part of me began wondering if I might use you to convince Dick to wait some little time before setting out to make love." 

*Clark* shivers. "I -- I can't." 

"You don't have that sort of control...?" 

A laugh, but there isn't much *humor* -- "I never have. The most I could do is bore him, and even then... if he *asked*..." 

Bruce kisses Clark's shoulder. "The Fox wouldn't have allowed me to truly ask anyway." 

"Has the Fox ever been in love before?" 

"Only with me." 

Clark opens his mouth -- and closes it again. 

Bruce laughs quietly. "I'm aware of precisely how that sounds." 

"Oh, no, Bruce, I'm really quite happy that you don't have very many problems with your self-esteem. It can be a problem in the *community*," Clark says, and his voice is distinctly... snippy. 

Bruce lets himself laugh a little more, *chuckle*... 

"Bruce." 

"Mm. Who else dominates you?" 

"Ah... I suppose you don't mean in my dreams." 

"You... sleep?" 

Another edged smile. "No. But the AI has the capacity to force me into -- something like -- REM sleep. There... well. You've figured prominently, at times." 

"I'm flattered. And disturbed." 

"As you should be. On both counts." 

"Does the AI... record?" 

We're not going down there! 

Fox --

No no no! No! 

Hm. "Never mind." 

"The Fox objects to you joining me in the Fortress?" 

Bruce presses his smile to Clark's ear. "Strenuously." 

"Do you always follow his orders?" 

"Only," Bruce says, and slips his tongue *into* Clark's ear -- 

"Oh --" 

"Only when I wish to thrive." 

"I -- I would never *hurt* you --" 

"I will discuss the matter with the Fox... another time. Who else do you dream of in this way...?" 

Clark sighs. "Alan -- often. Oliver -- once. Jim Gordon --" 

Bruce coughs -- 

"I won't *believe* you if you say you don't share that particular fantasy --" 

"Then I will not say a word about it. How much time do you *spend* listening to... Gotham?" 

"Bruce, if I listened to Gotham as a whole I would've been *working* there -- and attracting metahuman criminals who would turn your crumbling hell-pit of a city into a sizzling *crater*. I listen to *you*. I -- often." 

Bruce sighs and strokes Clark's abdomen, tugging at the hair beneath his navel and at his groin. 

"Oh... please touch?" 

Bruce strokes down and up the length of Clark's penis, which is incredibly hard despite being only partially erect. "I would think this would encourage you to wear sturdier materials." 

"It's something of a game for me. A childish one, I admit, but -- the American media says *nothing* about my erections, no matter how often I fly around in broad daylight with them. They never even *ask*." 

"Not even Lois Lane...?" 

"Not even her. Though she can be quite shameless about them in her way. She's conducted entire interviews with me -- with the part of me which is Kal-El, that is -- while focused only on my groin. And she never, ever blushes." 

"Intimidating..." 

"Gloriously so. She is in my dreams daily, sometimes." 

"You could consider --" 

"Living as *you* do, Bruce...? I think not. I will stand by you when the fragile wall between your secrets and the rest of the world falls down, but I will be *very* tempted to encourage Mr. Pennyworth to say 'I told you so.'" 

Bruce smiles. "Noted. Is there no one in real life -- ah. Diana of Themyscira." 

"Oh, yes. She is... quite wonderfully *regal* when she drives me to my knees and... hmm... puts me through my paces?" 

"'Regal'. Hm. I'm not entirely sure how I would feel about that." 

"Well, she thinks of you as a prancing buffoon, so I doubt the matter will come up anytime soon." 

Bruce laughs again. "Noted," he says, and squeezes Clark's penis. "How will you pleasure me?" 

Clark twines his fingers with Bruce's own -- and clenches around Bruce's *other* fingers. 

"Clark --" 

"How would you *like* to be pleasured?" 

Do *not* say in the Fortress! 

As you say. Bruce strokes Clark's penis fully erect -- it takes seconds -- and then lets go and pulls out slowly, stepping back and spreading his arms. That last he does with infinitely less showmanship than the Fox, but it still makes Clark eye him curiously.

*Cautiously*. 

Bruce smiles. "It's only me." 

"I would like -- I want to know where you draw your *lines*." 

"You *will* know -- in time." 

Clark catches his breath -- and then laughs. "You plan on *changing* where you draw them." 

"I don't plan anything of the kind, Clark. But... all human things change, sooner or later." 

Clark smiles wryly -- 

And then Bruce is pressed back against another innocent tree with Clark's hand pressed flat to his sternum -- 

And Clark is kissing him -- 

Clark is making love to his mouth -- 

Clark has *softened* his mouth -- Bruce turns out of the kiss. 

"Bruce --" 

"I believe you know my objection." 

Clark sighs. "I can kiss you more firmly with my lips partially paralyzed. I -- please. Let me show you?" 

Bruce narrows his eyes -- and nods. 

This time, the kiss *drives* him back against the tree as Clark seemingly does his level best to *colonize* Bruce's mouth. There's a sense he could be *bruised* by this -- certainly his lips will begin swelling as soon as they have *room* to do so -- 

And that added to the near-human softness of Clark's lips -- 

The *contrast* -- 

Bruce moans and closes his eyes for it -- 

Clark lifts Bruce's arms above his head and *then* slips his tongue in. His tongue is hard, thick, *heavy* -- 

I like -- 

Yeah, this is -- 

Bruce flexes his wrists and cants his hips forward, urging -- 

And *receiving*, because Clark hasn't pulled his trunks or tights back up, and either he enjoys the sensation of silk on his penis or he's capable of doing an excellent impression of same. Bruce laughs into Clark's mouth -- 

Clark grunts and *bites* Bruce's lower lip -- 

And the upper -- 

Clark *takes* Bruce's mouth even as he shoves and grinds against Bruce's groin -- 

Bruce *tries* to turn out of the kiss -- and for a moment Clark doesn't allow it, moving fast enough to change the kiss, to come *at* him from multiple angles -- 

"Clark --" But his mouth is free -- 

And Clark is licking his lips. 

And Bruce... knows. "You never quite gave her the chance to form the word 'no' in her mind." 

"I can't --" 

"'Read minds'. Yes, you've mentioned. You have, however, studied adolescent psychology extensively." 

Clark's hair is mussed, and, for a moment, he uses it to hide the glow of his eyes. The expression on and around his mouth is entirely ambiguous without it, and -- 

Bruce knows this, too. He reaches down to open his sash -- 

Clark takes it from him and sets it down *gently* on a large stone. 

He opens his trousers and lets them fall, and then pushes down his under-tights, jock, and underwear. There is some light stubble at his groin -- 

And Clark strokes it immediately, lips parted and eyes hidden. "Bruce..." 

"Clark. You are, as the Fox would say, something of a contrary bastard." 

Clark's laugh is a breath -- "Am I?" 

"When you are mistrusted out of hand, you ache to be held in the warmth of someone's -- " 

"Yours." 

"-- regard. When you are *trusted*, however... you yearn to *break*." 

"Never -- never that far --" 

"Show me your eyes." 

"I can lie with them quite easily --" 

"But you don't want to. Not to me." 

Clark pushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow. The glow behind his eyes is faint, and more purple than red. "Don't I?" 

Bruce smiles and offers Clark his palm -- 

Clark licks it thoroughly at speed, moaning and leaving it *wet* -- 

"Thank you," Bruce says, and begins to stroke himself, not bothering to be especially slow about it -- 

"Bruce. Tell me...?" 

"You *want* my trust, Clark. You... mm. You've convinced yourself that if you have the trust of someone like me --" 

"Just you." 

Bruce gasps -- and nods. "All right. You've convinced yourself that *my* trust is measured, even, and *worthy*. That I can both see you and *welcome* you. That I can *take* you -- and all of your terrifying contradictions." 

Clark flares his nostrils and *stares* at Bruce's groin for a long moment -- "Bruce. Why am I wrong?" And *then* he looks up again. 

Bruce smiles ruefully and squeezes himself hard enough to make himself grunt. "I am... only a man, Clark. I am, I will admit, a *frightening* man, and an *intelligent* man, but I still love with my heart and need with my genitals. Additionally --" 

"Let me suck you." 

"Let me see you on your knees." 

Clark drops gracefully, parting his lips and breathing -- deeply. 

"You make me wish I had caught some of your semen to slick myself with." 

Clark winces -- pleasure.

"You've had that fantasy." 

"Oh, yes." 

Bruce licks his lips and squeezes himself again. "Clark... you're in danger."

"I often am --" 

"I'm being serious," Bruce says, and makes a point of clawing his own penis -- 

*Clark's* penis twitches powerfully -- "Tell me. Tell me of the danger." 

"You've made me into a myth --" 

"I know you're a man --" 

"You've made too many other people... less." 

Clark frowns and turns away. "They don't -- the way they speak of me..." 

"Need you listen...?" 

"I'm not a man to them. I -- can never be." 

"Clark..." 

Clark laughs softly and begins to stroke himself with slow, powerful motions -- "I know I'm not a man to you. But -- you have better reasons for holding me apart." 

Bruce stops stroking -- 

"Please -- please?" 

Bruce pants. "Come here. Come -- closer." 

Clark does, sitting on his heels solely to make himself smaller -- 

*Lower* -- 

Bruce strokes Clark's cheek with his free hand. "You're very manipulative." 

"Oh, yes." 

"You... trust me to walk the line between allowing myself to be *moved* by your essential loneliness and allowing myself to recoil from everything which marks you as inhuman." 

Clark leans forward and exhales *hot* on the head of Bruce's penis -- 

Bruce *grunts* -- 

"Yes, Bruce. I do." 

"Clark..." And Bruce pushes his hand into Clark's hair. 

"Yes?" 

"I'm far more likely to recoil from the *human* in you." 

"I --" 

"*Suck* me." 

And there is a moment of *blank* sensation when Clark swallows him -- 

It shatters when Clark sucks, when Clark hums and looks *up*, looks a *challenge* -- 

Bruce groans and strokes Clark's face -- "I will not last." 

Clark closes his eyes and begins to suck in rhythmic pulses. He is -- 

He's *pulling* Bruce deeper into his throat with every suck -- 

He's holding Bruce *arched* with this -- 

"Clark -- my hip --" 

And the hand on his hip is warm, of course, smoother than most teenagers' and *hard* -- 

Bruce grunts and thrusts -- 

Clark holds him *still* with just that one hand -- he's using the other to masturbate himself. To -- 

"In the -- in the interest of full -- disclosure..." 

"Mmm...?" 

Bruce groans and bangs his head back against the tree -- no, that pain is far too distracting. It takes away from the hot *pull* of Clark's mouth, from the *slick* sound of Clark's strokes -- 

"Mm mmm...?" 

"*Hnh* -- Clark -- I'd very much like to fellate you -- oh --" 

Clark pulls Bruce partway out of his mouth, apparently solely to be able to groan *loudly* -- 

"I must -- return --" 

Clark nods and strokes Bruce's hip -- 

"Oh -- so forgiving --" 

A *smile*, then, sharp and *worrying* -- and Bruce is too *slow* to discern the move that ends with his penis back in Clark's throat -- 

No, he's being moved *rhythmically* again -- "Shall I --" 

Clark nods and *squeezes* Bruce's hip -- 

"*Again*, Clark. We will -- I want to *take* you --" 

Clark *flushes*, *urges* -- 

"*Yes*," and Bruce shoves both hands into Clark's hair and stands upright, working his hips just so -- 

Destroying the *flow* of Clark's moans, Clark's wonderful *sounds* -- 

"You are -- quite beautiful --" 

Clark swallows *hard* -- 

"*Clark* -- I -- again?" 

Another blank moment -- 

Perfect *compression* -- 

Bruce cries out and takes Clark faster, harder and *faster* -- 

Clark nods and uses his throat -- 

He seems to have as much control of it as he has over his *hands* -- 

"Clark, you -- this --" Bruce laughs at his own incoherence -- 

Reassure him. 

Fox...? 

Just -- in case -- 

"You are -- a wonder. I was *made* to doubt all miracles, but this -- *hnh* --" 

Another *squeeze* of a swallow, another moment to have his hip *gripped* -- 

"Clark, I -- I want *more* --" 

Clark pulls back and cries out, masturbates himself *furiously* -- 

"Clark --" 

"A moment. A -- no, I --" 

And then Bruce is *facing* the tree -- 

Oh -- fuck. Brucie, we -- 

"Clark -- Clark, I'm too --" 

'Raw,' he was going to say, but Bruce sincerely doubts anyone *could* be too raw for that tongue, that -- 

So heavy and *thick*. So -- "*Slick*. I --" 

Clark groans and -- 

He's holding Bruce's buttocks spread with one *hand* -- 

He's nuzzling and -- 

He almost seems to be *speaking*, and it's fervent and low, broken -- 

No, the thrust and *sweep* of his tongue is merely another aspect of his speech. Each *delve* is something -- 

Something *other* -- 

Bruce pants and reaches back to cup Clark's head, to stroke his *hair* -- 

Clark *hums* -- 

"Oh -- I -- my brother -- my brother would do this --" 

Clark moans *loudly* for that -- 

And Bruce breathes a laugh. "So many people... aroused for that --" 

Clark *nods* -- and takes him faster. 

"He is beautiful. So -- ah, *Clark* --" 

And Clark has both hands on him now, Clark is spreading him *and* stroking him -- 

"You would have me *lose* myself --" 

Another nod -- and the rhythm Clark is using on Bruce's penis is the Fox's -- 

Holy -- that's *wrong* -- 

It feels -- oh, *brother* -- 

I don't know how to *deal* with this -- 

I wonder. I can't help wondering how many *other* people have been having relationships with us. 

The Fox snickers -- 

And they both *grunt* for the feel of Clark teasing the head of their penis with his thumb. They -- 

No, no, just you for now -- 

Bruce rises and works his hips, rises and groans and *claws* at the back of Clark's head -- 

Clark *kisses* Bruce's anus, humming and lapping and *thrusting* -- 

"Clark. *Clark* --" 

More hums, more --

"*Nnh* --"

A *squeeze* for his penis, and it goes on and *on* in purely sexualized *threat* -- 

"Clark. I want -- let me ejaculate in your *mouth* --" 

Clark cries out and licks Bruce's cleft once -- 

Again -- 

Clark *shoves* in with his tongue, and the feel pushes Bruce up onto his toes, makes him *clench* and *twitch* -- 

"Clark, *please* --" 

Clark whimpers again, whines and kisses the length of Bruce's cleft -- 

And then Bruce is groaning and *yanking* at Clark's hair -- 

And *then* he realizes that he's thrusting into Clark's mouth again, that the slick feel around his anus is memory *only*, that the heat -- *this* heat -- is his, only *his* -- 

"Yes -- *yes*, Clark -- " And he's grunting again, working his hips faster and *faster* in a futile attempt to match Clark's pulsing *sucks* -- "I want -- " 

Noise. He is *only* capable of noise, because Clark is *working* at Bruce's prostate through his perineum -- 

Because Clark is sucking hard enough that Bruce can only *grind* into his mouth -- 

Because Clark is *looking* at him, seeing into him -- 

Seeing *us*. 

Fox -- 

Yeah. Yeah, I *want* -- and the Fox rises and grins, licking his teeth and panting for it, *rolling* his hips for it -- 

Kent's eyes are *good* and wide -- 

"Just me, big boy. Just -- *mm*. C'mon, *work* that dick again..." 

Kent shudders and bares his fucking *teeth* -- 

The Fox *shouts* a laugh -- "Aw, *yeah* --" 

And then Kent's sucking again, *doing* himself again, staring up at him with so much hunger -- 

So much incredible fucking *hunger* -- 

"Nnh -- I know what's *good* for me, Kent -- *fuck* --" 

Vibrating fingers on his taint -- 

Fucking -- fucking *buzzing* him -- 

His vision goes *fuzzy* -- 

And the Fox is *aware* that he's slamming into Kent's mouth -- 

That he's being rude as all *hell* -- 

But *mostly* he's aware that he's *seconds* away from -- 

"Oh, *fuck*!" 

Coming. Just -- 

All that heat. All that -- that fucking *light* -- 

Like maybe Kent should be living *on* the sun, maybe he should be -- 

Sucking -- 

Just like this, just like -- 

The Fox groans and slumps against the tree, twitching and *aching* -- Kent is still sucking him. He -- 

The Fox shudders and groans a little *more* -- 

And then Kent cries *out* -- 

And *then* -- 

Hm. 

I can't believe he just came on our pants. 

I believe he's still technically in the *process* of ejaculating on our pants, Fox. 

I -- god *damn* -- 

I wonder... is he capable of becoming dehydrated? 

Screw that. How the hell are we gonna explain these pants to *Alfred*? 

I think, perhaps, we should discard them in the garage. 

The Fox snorts -- and then *grunts*, because Kent is sucking him *again*. "Easy, *easy*, Kent --" 

Kent *pants* around him, hot and *gusty* -- 

And the Fox shudders for it, stroking Kent's hair and giving him a little push until he pulls back. 

"I want. I want more." 

"More is -- doable. But --" 

"Not -- right now," and *Kent* shudders. His cock looks just as hard as it did *before* he came -- he stands and tucks it, pulling up his tights and shorts. "I'm sorry." 

The Fox raises an eyebrow and pulls up his own -- hopelessly stained and *wet* -- pants. "For being a one-man bukkake show?" 

"I -- truly shouldn't be surprised that you know *that* word." 

The Fox grins. "Really not. I..." The Fox swipes a little from around his knee and sucks it in -- 

Kent *moans* -- 

And the Fox gives it some thought. It's about as gamy as come should be, but that's the only thing remotely human about it. The saltiness isn't human. The *sweetness* has more in common with citrus than with anything else. And there isn't even a little bitterness. It's -- different. The Fox goes for a little more -- 

And then Kent is right there with two shiny-sticky-messy fingers *right* in front of the Fox's mouth. 

"Really." 

"Ah. Please?" 

The Fox narrows his eyes and *licks* Kent's fingers into his mouth -- 

And Kent takes a shuddering breath and *winces*. "Fox..." 

"Mm-hmm..." 

Speed-babble, then, and a *crooning* moan as Kent comes closer, *looms* closer -- 

The Fox slurps his way off. "Time to go home, Kent." 

"Would you --" 

"Probably," and the Fox grins. 

Kent closes his eyes and smiles for a moment -- "You are... hm. Yourself. Please touch my groin?" 

The Fox pushes a hand between Kent's thighs and cups him, rubs him... "Gonna tuck all the way home?" 

"Just until I'm away from you -- and Dick." 

The Fox laughs. "I appreciate the thought -- but Dickie has been watching you fly around rock-hard for *years* now. Superman is his *favorite*." 

Kent cocks his head to the side. "How *much* does that bother you?" 

"I'm keeping my pout on probation... until after I've had just a little more time to impress him." 

"You'll have... no difficulty with that," Kent says, and reaches to cover the Fox's working hand with his own. "I want you very badly." 

"Me...?" 

"Both of you. Or. Are there... more?" 

The Fox grins and shakes his head. "Though sometimes Brucie *tries* to make more." 

"Oh -- *why*?" 

The Fox leans in and licks Kent's mouth. "Let's just say that he knows what *your* loneliness looks like from the *inside*." 

"And you?" 

"Heh. *I*... have always had Bruce." 

Kent shivers and steps back. "I have... more to tell you about Luthor and Cassandra." 

"Just a sec --" 

And Bruce rises and smiles, leaning in to kiss Clark's cheek before retrieving wipes from his sash. His trousers -- 

There is, truly, nothing which can be done with them other than wiping away the... excess. 

"Ah -- a moment." 

Bruce blinks -- his pants are stained, but the excess is gone. And Clark is tucking a crushed bundle of wipes into one of Bruce's spare pockets. "Hm. Thank you." 

"You're quite welcome," and Clark pulls off his cape and raises his eyebrows. 

"Please --" And they are in the air and Bruce can see nothing but red. "I wonder if that sensation will ever be less disconcerting." 

"I'm more than willing to give you practice with it." 

Bruce hums a laugh. "I suppose it *had* been too long since I felt both terrified and disturbed." 

"Oh -- I do hope you can sense me smiling for that." 

"Oh, yes. You were saying...?" 

But Clark is silent for a long moment. A *very* long moment... 

"Clark...?" 

"Cain -- he *chose* to leap over the edge, Bruce --" 

"Clark --" 

"Please, *remind* the Fox that it would have taken only moments for me to regain enough of my strength that I *could* have taken him to the nearest hospital." 

Ask him -- 

Fox. This is mine, now. 

Bruce, I *need* -- 

Bruce pulls the Fox close. All right. "Was there... sign of his body?" 

"The river currents are too strong. The rocks..." Clark sighs. "I *will* continue searching, but I believe the body is far more likely to be found by local villagers once it washes out of the river again." 

The Fox shudders within him -- 

It's all right, Fox. 

I. I'm -- listening -- 

"Please tell the Fox that this sort of thing *has* happened before -- I. Surely, he already knows this?" 

Bruce smiles wryly. "The Fox hasn't had very much in the way of respect for the heroes it *has* happened to." 

Clark coughs a laugh. "Ah -- hm. Well." 

The Fox's laugh is pained -- Got it. Just -- I got it. I get it. 

Fox -- 

I *will* get it. I promise. *You* get the goods on Cassandra. 

All right. "The Fox has instructed me to ask about Cassandra." 

"Which one of you... hm. Do *you* care less?" 

Bruce hums. "Hardly. The Fox is hoping to change the subject." 

Clark squeezes him. "Luthor is... important to you."

"I love him. I feel... I feel as though I am finally wise enough to have a relationship with him." 

"He isn't more intelligent than *you* --" 

"Perhaps not. He does, however, have the sort of psychological profile which demands a certain degree of... intellectual and emotional *aptitude*." 

"Yes, yes, I suppose he *is* interestingly insane, but so are his *bodyguards*. I don't see you sleeping with *them*." 

"Seeing Hope and Prudence last week tempted the Fox to try to merge with me once more." 

Clark chokes. "You said *no*?" 

Bruce shows his teeth. 

"I can't -- oh, that expression is *terrible*!" 

"Hm. Sorry." 

"You are *not*--" Clark *huffs* a sigh. "All right. You -- you *care* for him. He -- Bruce, the way he looked at Cassandra was *frightening*." 

I really, *really* miss the days when we could make jokes about how *he* looks at traumatized children. 

But not more than you appreciate Dick's presence in our life -- 

God, no -- 

Or more than you appreciated the fellatio. 

Or -- and I gotta own this -- the tongue-fucking. 

Mm. 

Yeah -- 

"Are you... arguing with yourself?" 

"Not quite," Bruce says, and takes a deep, calming breath in order to help himself *cope* with the sensation of Clark flying them still higher -- 

"Oh, I'm sorry. There are -- well, the seagulls in this area can be terribly vicious." 

"It's quite all right. The Fox had... thoughts about the way you look at children." 

"None that *young*. And *you* --" 

Bruce hums. "We are aware of the rather egregious lack of structural integrity inherent to our glass house." 

"Oh, *good* --" 

"Tell me how... no. He looked covetous. Hungry. Willful." 

"I -- *yes* --" 

"He cares for her deeply, Clark." 

"He doesn't *know* her." 

"He..." Bruce smiles. "He saw her eyes. He is... more than capable of falling in love from solely that." 

"In *love* --" 

"Platonically. I am *quite* sure he does not share our perversions." 

"Our... hm. You didn't tell him about me." 

"Or about myself. I'm rather invested in his newfound desire *not* to destroy you and all of your works." 

Clark... mutters. 

"Yes?" 

Clark mutters *more* -- 

"Hm." 

" -- and. And *furthermore*, he's not even *attractive*." 

"Amazingly enough, I disagree." 

"He's -- bald all over." 

"Yes." 

"And -- *pale*." 

"Exceedingly." 

"He looks *breakable*!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh -- all right. Granted, *all* humans look breakable to me, but --" 

"He really isn't that thin anymore, Clark. I've checked." 

"I -- Cassandra." 

"Yes?" 

Clark sighs. "She knew, right away, that I had brought Luthor for *her*. I think she did, anyway. She -- introduced herself." 

Bruce blinks. "Interesting." 

"Yes, I. I can't help wondering if Luthor reminded her of *Cain*." 

Bruce winces, but -- "I would not be surprised." 

"Then --" 

"The similarities will *not* last." 

"Oh -- Bruce. You've hardly *spoken* with the man in *years*. How can you possibly be *sure*?" 

"Because of his will, Clark --" 

"His will to *power* is --" 

"Distressing, to say the least. But... I believe it would be fair to say that Cassandra represents something he has not had for much too long. Something he has *missed* and, thus, something he will do anything to keep." 

"Innocence?" 

"Hope. And hope for a brighter tomorrow." 

"Even as he hopes to rule the *world*." 

Bruce smiles. "Even then." 

"Did you truly know him so well when you were high school students together?" 

"In some ways, yes. In others... not even remotely. While he is capable of hiding his emotions behind a wall of biting *disdain*, he has never been especially adept at hiding them from people he cares about. The fact that he cared about me even then thus made him incredibly confusing. I could see hints -- and more -- of what he truly felt whenever we spoke, but those hints would directly contradict what he was saying or doing. I didn't understand." 

Clark squeezes him -- 

"Thank you, but...?" 

"I... it's only that I remember quite well what it felt like to be a confused teenager. It seemed as those *everyone* was lying about *something* back then." 

"Yes. Even Harvey lied constantly... though not to me once we began making love." 

"You miss him." 

"Of course." 

"The other night..." 

Bruce laughs. "You were listening." 

*Clark* laughs. "It was a very slow night...?" 

"Hm. Go on." 

"We're approximately three minutes out. And -- do you truly feel you would've lost control?" 

"Yes." 

"And... made love to him." 

"Yes." 

Clark shudders and exhales. "I've never. I can't lose control like that. At least -- I never have." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You can't be... teased?" 

"I have... perfect muscle control. Over *every* muscle in my body. I need not *ever* be erect. Whether or not I'm emotionally aroused." 

Okay, that's -- 

Yes. Disturbing and fascinating. 

It means... he's always making the choice. 

Every time. 

It means he's never been *desperate*. 

But -- emotionally -- 

*Ask*.

"I think --" Clark laughs quietly. "I believe I need you to say *something*, Bruce." 

"I... I find myself wondering about the nature of... passion." 

"Oh... I want you very badly. I have. I have *ached* inside. I have *tested* the ache by keeping myself from growing aroused." 

"Your conclusions?" 

"I wish... perhaps you'll allow us to speak for a time? Face to face?" 

"I must prepare for tonight --" 

"Oh -- of course --" 

"I'd like to see your eyes again." 

Clark shivers against him. "Bruce... the ache doesn't fade. The ache never fades with those I care for deeply." 

"Never?" 

Another soft laugh. "It can be a relief to allow it to *become* sexual, to *remind* myself of such things *forcibly*." 

"Because *those* aches have an end?" 

"Perhaps more of a caesura. I -- what does it feel like to lose control?" 

"I believe it's different for every human, but, for me... there is a sense of not being able to fully catch my breath. There is pain -- true pain -- in my hands and penis and jaw --" 

"Your *jaw*?" 

"An urge to bite, an urge to suck and lick and *taste*... I've never known for sure." 

Clark sighs. "Please continue?" 

"There is also... a kind of anger." 

"With the object of your lusts?" 

"Rarely. For me, it's an anger at the universe as a whole for being made so very *weak* and *needy* --" 

"Oh -- oh, no --" 

"It's all right, Clark. I am... Harvey did much to show me the wrongheaded nature of those thoughts. They still linger, but not as powerfully. Additionally, the anger is containable. There *is* something which can be done to ease the pain of it, to slake the *thirst*. And my body begins *reaching* for it. My balance grows difficult and my knees weak, my hands ache to clutch and hold, my penis rises for *everything*. I become something *made* for making love, something explicitly designed for the culmination of bodies and spirit." 

Clark moans softly -- 

"Clark -- " 

"We're here," and Clark sets him on his feet gently and unwraps his cape. He smiles ruefully. "We have... Dick is downstairs with Alfred." 

"I... am tempted to ask you to take me to Metropolis." 

"Oh -- it wouldn't be any trouble." 

Bruce smiles and cups Clark's face. "My time sense suggests that the sun will be down within the hour --" 

"Forty-seven minutes, yes --" 

"And I need to be on my way before then. Helene Carlyle *must* face justice." 

"If there's something I could be of assistance with --" 

"Clark." 

Clark smiles wryly, eyes flaring red and *hot* -- "I vastly -- *vastly* -- enjoy fluttering around you." 

"I imagine I've been making the act... rewarding." 

"It *is* more than an act -- but. We can cut it short." 

Bruce strokes Clark's cheekbone with his thumb. "You need not... hmm... *renew* my fear of you." 

"Humans always come to trust me more than they should once given certain benign displays and the ability to view themselves as more mature, more... knowledgeable." 

Bruce smiles. 

Clark's lips part -- 

And Bruce is being studied intensely and at speed. Bruce raises an eyebrow -- 

Clark kisses him firmly and *briefly* -- "Tell me. Tell me your thoughts?" 

"There is a part of me which will never trust you." 

"But --" 

"Clark. The Fox is capable of keeping *me* from having erections much of the time. I find that I trust him with this task, as well." 

"Oh --" Clark laughs and covers his face for a moment. "I believe I'm beginning to see what you mean about my being contrary." 

"You *do* have a choice about how you'll go about negotiating your relationships." 

"Yes, yes, and *everyone* wants to be *buddies* with a minor *god*." 

Bruce hums. 

"What?" 

Bruce crosses his arms over his chest and smiles. 

"Oh -- *what*?" 

"I've decided to be infuriating." 

"*Why*?" 

"Because I *can*." 

Clark frowns. "That's really quite --" Clark's jaw drops and he *stares* for a long moment. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"All right, yes, that *is* wonderful commentary on the situation, but Bruce, you can *choose* not to be infuriating. I can't choose not to hear what's happening continents away!" 

"But you *can* choose to discuss -- or not discuss -- what's been said. You can choose to allow others to alleviate your hurts. You can choose to show yourself as the intelligent, amusing, kind, loving, welcoming -- and vastly contrary -- man you actually are. You can choose to *force* others to take you as you truly are." 

"I -- can't live the way you do." 

"Then don't. Live the way *you* do, Clark. Because it's *fairly* clear that you haven't been." 

Clark frowns and turns away. 

Bruce nods and strips out of his soiled uniform. He doesn't really have time for a proper shower, but it's reasonable *enough* for the Fox to smell of sex. 

Hm. 

To *reek* of sex, really. 

He balls the trousers into the trash, checks the shirt -- ah, yes, the bullet hole. He's going to have to make more silk clothing soon. He's down to his last twenty shirts and trousers. though he has no shortage of bolts of black silk ready to be made into uniforms. 

The armor is in good condition, but smells a bit too much of fear-sweat. He sets it in the hamper and moves to the mirror to examine his bruise -- 

"May I tape you?" 

"I was hoping to teach Dick how --" 

"It might be... easier. To show him." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow --

The Fox sighs. He's right. 

"All right." 

Clark smiles -- and then Dick is with them, wide-eyed and very obviously thrilled for the brief flight -- 

He was born to fly. 

Yes. 

Dick turns to grin at him. "Welcome -- *oh*! What *happened*?" And he twists free of Clark's hands and moves close, resting a gentle hand on Bruce's bruise. "Oh, it's *warm* -- no, what happened?" 

"Cain -- an assassin who had taken a small child as his apprentice -- shot me." 

"You -- *what*?" 

Bruce smiles and strokes Dick's cheek. "Body armor is a marvelous invention. You'll be wearing a great deal of it when you join me on the street." 

Dick frowns. "I have to be able to *move*, Bruce --" 

"And you'll learn to do it while protected. Clark...?" 

Clark clears his throat. "If you would, Dick...?" 

Dick turns back to face Clark, who is stroking the tear in his uniform. 

"I could've used body armor myself." 

"But -- you're *Super*!" 

"And exceedingly vulnerable to the kryptonite bullets Cain had loaded one of his many guns with. Bruce wound up having to fight him alone." 

Dick blinks rapidly, obviously *considering* -- "Why weren't you fast enough to avoid the bullet?" 

"I could tell there was kryptonite nearby, but..." Clark smiles ruefully. "I was supposed to wait for Bruce to engage Cain and distract him, but didn't, because Cain surprised both of us by shooting the child -- a little girl named Cassandra." 

"Is she *okay*?" 

"She will be," Bruce says, and moves to the medical area to pull out the tape and scissors. "Watch Clark carefully, please. The bullet cracked at least one rib --" 

"Ah... just one, Bruce." 

Bruce smiles. "All right. Thank you, Clark." 

"Oh... anytime." 

"Hm." Bruce raises his arms. "Wipe me down with alcohol first, please." 

"Oh -- I can do that!" 

Bruce nods to Dick. "Do it in a thorough band around my chest and back, with at least one inch of space above and below the bruise. The large alcohol wipes are in the second drawer of the cabinet, on the right." 

"Okay, Bruce!" Dick works quickly and thoroughly, but --

"You need not be so gentle with the bruise itself. If all the sweat isn't gone, then the tape will stick poorly, and shift as I move." 

"Oh, okay, got it," and Dick's touches are much more firm. 

Bruce breathes through it and tries to think, tries to -- 

Let me. 

Fox -- 

You can do all the *feeling* about it, but *I* have to do the talking. And the Fox meets Bruce's eyes steadily, *firmly*. 

Bruce nods and sinks -- 

"Something bad happened today, Dickie." 

"Yeah, three people got *shot*, Fox," and Dickie shakes his head and continues to work -- 

And Cain vomits blood -- 

Cain disappears over -- 

Over the *side* -- 

*Fox* -- 

I'm good. I'm -- 

The Fox blows out a breath and shudders -- 

And Dickie freezes up. 

"Keep going, Dickie." 

"But -- are you sure I'm not *hurting* you?" 

Kent rests a hand on Dick's shoulder. "There are many sorts of pain to be considered, Dick." 

"And gunshots always -- at the *very* least -- sting. But --" The Fox shakes his head. "Dickie, I killed a man today." 

Dickie drops the wipe and stares. 

Kent hands him another wipe. "Cain gave him no choice, Dick. And, technically, he killed himself." 

"I. Um. Have you. Have you done that *before*?" 

The Fox smiles wryly. "Never. And I hope to never do it again. He had us outgunned and outmatched, and my only advantages were throwing my voice to disguise my location and laying down smoke pellets. And I was running out of smoke pellets."

Dick bites his lip and moves around to scrub at Bruce's back. "Um." 

"Ask, Dickie. Anything." 

"H-how did you. Do it." 

"I managed to get him to come out of cover enough to bury a couple of knives in his shoulders -- and a couple more in his chest when he didn't drop the guns." 

Dickie *pants*. "That's -- your knives are really. Um." 

"Sharp and long, yeah. As long as I can get 'em without losing their usefulness as throwing weapons. I punctured at least one of his lungs, and we're gonna be living with the sight -- and *stink* -- of Cain vomiting blood all over himself for the rest of our lives." 

Kent sighs. "If I had stuck with the original plan --" 

"Neither of us expected him to shoot Cassandra, Kent." 

"I -- I *located* them by following the sound of beatings where the victim wasn't crying *out* --" 

The Fox grunts -- 

"*Yes*. I -- I should've known he could do anything --" 

"*Kent* --" 

"One *moment*, Fox!" And Kent tugs Dickie back between them again. "It *can* be safer to work with a partner -- or a team -- than it is to work alone, but it can also be more *dangerous*. Because I followed neither the letter nor the spirit of Fox's orders, he was left in an untenable situation. Do you understand?" 

And Bruce is *gripping* the Fox from the inside -- 

This is a lesson Dick *must* learn, Fox -- 

It doesn't *sit* right -- 

You must leave your emotions with *me* -- 

The Fox grits his teeth -- no. He -- he can be calm. *Collected*. He can be -- 

Something like all right. 

And Dickie is studying him. Hard. 

"Ask." 

"Did he... bleed out?" 

"No, Dickie. He jumped over the side of a cliff." 

Dickie blinks. "I -- *why*?" 

"Because he didn't want to go to prison for what he'd done," Kent says, and picks up the tape. "Are you quite sure you don't want to shave first, Fox?" 

The Fox snorts. "As *entertaining* as that would be, I think Dinah would hurt me for it. Besides, that tape doesn't rip out my hair by the roots as much as others do." 

Kent inclines his head. "The important thing to remember when doing this, Dick, is that you're trying to restrict movement -- but not forbid it entirely." 

"Yeah, *that*. Also, you want straight, even lines without too much bubbling. Show him, Kent." 

And Kent tapes him *just* like this is something he's been doing for the League all along. The idea of that -- 

A group of people who could know him, know his *body* -- 

But they don't truly know Clark, at all. 

God -- none of them. 

He would've been significantly less... affected by us had he not left himself so alone.

Lonely. 

He has no brother, Fox. 

The Fox shudders for that, keeping *most* of it internal -- 

"Oh -- Fox, are you sure you're *okay*?" 

"Ah, Dickie -- no, I'm not. Or -- I'm *absolutely* sure that I'm *not* okay. I've been shot four times -- two of them were just grazes -- so I'm used to it *enough*. But I'm never gonna be used to killing people." 

"He *jumped* --" 

"*You* -- you just remember this, Dickie. Remember what my *eyes* look like right now. Remember what I can still see, and smell, and *feel*. Because there's no coming back from death. There's no do-overs, no chances to make anything *good* again. There's just blood, and stink, and the *end*. Never forget it." 

Dickie bites his lip -- and nods. "All right, Fox. I'm -- I'm sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me --" 

"Um. You can't -- I'm *going* to feel sorry for you, Fox. Because -- because I know what it's like to watch someone die now." 

The Fox winces -- 

Kent *pauses* -- 

"God -- fuck --" 

Dickie holds up a hand and smiles wryly. It's too old on his *face* -- "You get to forget, I think." 

"I *don't* --" 

"You do, because... because it was never gonna be for very long, and also. Also it means you were thinking of me. And not 'my tragedy.'" Dick bites his lip again and shakes his head. "That's what they kept calling it at the hospital. 'My tragedy.' Like -- like it was just a thing I was carrying around and could put down if I really. If I really felt like it." 

"Dickie..." 

The smile gets harder on his face. "You don't put it down ever, do you, Fox?" 

"Bruce... Bruce has asked me to give it to him. I don't know if I can." 

Dickie searches him a little. "Can I. Can I sleep with you tonight?" 

"Yeah. You -- whenever you want." 

"Well -- you're going to bring *lovers* home sometimes --" 

"And they can turn right around and leave again if you need me, Dickie." 

Dickie's eyes shine a little for that -- and he nods. "I won't -- take advantage." 

The Fox grins and jerks his chin at him since he can't chuck him under *his* chin right now. "And if I want you to?" 

And Dickie *smiles* for that, smiles the *right* way -- 

And that's maybe why he doesn't notice Kent finishing up until he leans in and kisses his ear. "I'll think about what you've *both* said, Fox. Every word." 

The Fox closes his eyes for a moment and does his own smiling. "You do that." 

"Until we meet again, Dick," and Kent gives Dickie the kind of smile that's worth a *few* felonies -- 

Dickie *blushes* --

And Kent's gone. 

The Fox stretches, limbering himself up as much as he can. 

Dickie watches -- avidly. 

"Yeah, Dickie?" 

"Um. You *know*. Also -- you and Superman are *lovers* now?"

The Fox smiles wryly. "I love Brucie, but he really is a slut sometimes." 

Dickie stares at him. 

The Fox winks. "So am I. It was pretty clear that Kent wanted us, and neither of us are all that good at standing up to that. We just -- it's a lot easier to understand Kent now. To see the man in him. We're not all that good at standing up to *that*, either." 

Dickie bites his lip and nods thoughtfully. "Is he -- is he really good?" 

"Uh, huh. Made us make a *lot* of noise -- and it distracted me from... well." 

Dickie rubs him over the tape. "I. I want to distract you, too." 

"I know, Dickie. I --" 

"*I* know it's not enough," Dickie says, and curls his fingernails against the tape a little. "I'm not -- I know you love me." 

"More -- more." 

Dickie smiles -- 

And gasps when the Fox pulls him close and kisses his forehead.

"Listen close to Alfie, yeah?" 

"I -- yes, Fox." 

The Fox squeezes him *hard* -- 

And then it's time to dress and go.


	27. Chapter 27

Two and a half hours into his surveillance of Carlyle and the Fox is considering setting aside a pocket for a deck of cards, or bringing an extra knife along for rousing games of mumbledy-peg. 

She's eaten a TV dinner while -- and this was a shock -- watching TV. 

She's used the bathroom twice. 

She's picked up the phone and *started* dialing a number -- and put the phone down again. 

She's watched two horrible sitcoms that make the Fox *glad* he's never managed to convince Brucie to buy a TV. 

Really. 

Yes, *really* -- wait, why are we in the spa?

I don't suppose I could just say something about being bored. 

No, you *can't*. Is she in here somewhere?

I sent her away, and Bruce arranges himself in a lounge chair by the pool. 

He's reading Jane Austen and wearing one of those ridiculously short robes that always seem to be made *especially* for embarrassing people -- 

Fox. 

Yes, I *know* I make you buy robes like that. It's part of *my* image. 

Bruce hums and crosses his legs at the ankle. Very true. Still, the... breeze is rather invigorating. 

The Fox snorts and checks -- 

Carlyle is watching *another* sitcom, and is making uncomfortable-sounding noises for the laugh track. Hunh. 

The Fox shifts enough to get her in view through the open living room window. She's... 

That's a rather ambiguous expression, Fox. 

Uh, huh. The flapping curtains aren't helping, but... 

She seems to be feeling the... pressure. 

She damned well should be -- 

And Carlyle mutes the television and stands -- 

Paces -- 

Moves to the telephone and picks it up -- 

Come on come on -- 

She puts it down again, pushing her hands back through her pretty auburn hair and generally looking -- not tortured enough for the Fox's tastes. 

Or my own. 

The Fox sighs and watches her walk back to her couch, watches her *stare* at the couch like it has answers for her -- 

She sits -- but doesn't take the television off mute. 

Perhaps she is... soul-searching. 

Kinda late for that. 

Indeed. A part of me wonders what sort of pressures she found herself under -- 

The Fox growls internally -- 

And Bruce hums. Yes, I'm fully aware of your feelings in matters like this one. Just the same, we would have forgiven Harvey anything -- 

*Harvey* never *would* -- 

I wonder what sort of person he would have become -- 

*Brucie*. 

I -- forgive me. I'm -- 

Worried about what we might have to do to Carlyle. I *know*. Just -- some things have to be a little grey, Brucie. 

And the Fox can *feel* Bruce raising his eyebrows at him, and -- 

Bruce, why... no. Never mind. 

Fox -- 

Why -- are you older? Or...? 

Bruce stares at his own hands -- 

Bruce strips himself naked and stares at his own body, at the scars which are and *aren't* there -- 

The Fox draws them in more *firmly* -- but they disappear. Bruce... 

I... I believe we are separating more, Fox. 

The Fox shivers and pulls Bruce close, squeezing and *holding* -- 

Feeling his *warmth* -- 

I don't -- *brother* -- 

Yes, Fox. *Always*. But... perhaps this is part of the problem? 

The Fox frowns and pats Bruce down a little, scratches at his hips -- 

Fox... 

You mean -- you mean every time we call each other 'brother' -- 

We *make* ourselves brothers, yes. I feel. I do feel older. 

The Fox pulls Bruce close again, kisses his smooth-shaven cheek, rubs his own -- carefully-cultivated -- stubble against it. Brother, that's -- wait -- 

Yes. Yes. I am... your older brother now. 

The Fox blinks and -- mostly, he blinks. Uh. 

Yes, I concur. Though -- 

You were always supposed to be the older one. Uh -- but you *made* me -- 

To be older. To be more... to be more. And to protect me. 

The Fox pulls back enough to meet Bruce's eyes, and they're warm and full and *rueful*. They -- 

They're older than he is. 

I can -- Bruce, you don't *have* to protect *me* -- 

Bruce cups the Fox's face with his big hands, his *warm* hands -- 

I *mean* it -- 

And I love you, brother. We can... I believe we can negotiate this as we've negotiated other things. 

Is -- this is what happened with you and Kent. 

Yes, I believe so. 

This is because I can't deal with -- Cain. 

Perhaps. Or perhaps it was simply a matter of time, and Bruce kisses the Fox's cheek. 

The Fox shivers. Am I -- did I get younger, too? 

Bruce cocks his head to the side. You still have your smile lines. And your scarf always fits tightly enough in here that I can see your crow's feet. 

All right, that's -- something. I don't think it's *maturity* to deal with killing someone -- 

No, it isn't. It is, however, a function of how we are made. 

The Fox nods. And -- I started it. With -- with Mom. 

Perhaps -- 

No *perhaps* about it. I -- Lex was right -- 

Innocence is a luxury, Fox. 

I'm supposed to -- 

Be yourself. And -- we are how we were made. I think it would be a mistake to worry about this overmuch. 

The Fox pulls free and checks on Carlyle, even though he knows they *both* would've noticed if she'd done anything exciting -- 

She's biting her nails. 

Amazingly enough, Brucie, that doesn't count as exciting. 

She's quite neat about it -- 

I don't know, she's gonna need a file for those. 

Hm. Did she bite her nails before...? 

Not that I *noticed* -- ah, no, she had a manicure last time we checked on her. She's deteriorating. We could -- 

Jim said three days, Fox. 

The Fox growls and paces internally, stretches and claws at the walls a little -- 

Do you think Dick is already in our bed?

The Fox -- growls for a different reason. 

Yes -- 

I hope so. God, I hope so -- 

His scent -- 

His *warmth* -- and he wants to be held, Brucie. 

It's been too long -- 

Lex just isn't *cuddly* enough. 

He does try -- 

Yeah, and he even does a good job of it -- for a while. 

Perhaps he will learn from Cassandra. 

We really need to call him -- 

Yes. Tomorrow. Fox... 

If I do stop worrying about this... 

Yes? 

I'm *worried* that we're on a damned slippery *slope*, Brucie. 

What could happen -- 

Don't even *ask* that question -- 

May we talk about your superstitions? 

We *are* -- all right, there *are* words for us, and for what's *happening* to us -- 

Yes. And -- I believe we can go back. 

The Fox blinks and turns to stare at Bruce -- who is wearing linen again. 

And then they're in the theater, and the Fox has his feet up and his candy cigarette between his fingers... 

The Fox spins it up his sleeve and puts his feet on the floor -- 

No...? 

Diffident sounds wrong on you now, Brucie. 

Bruce hums. We have always been... adaptable. 

It's one of the things *Lex* loves about us, but I'm thinking... I'm wondering how everyone *else* feels about it. 

Mother regrets it. Dinah worries about it, as does Alfred. Dick... 

Dickie liked it just fine when it meant we were taking him away from all those horrible fucking places -- in his mind and out of it. I... the Fox scratches at his stubble and waves the 'projector' to life. The screen fills with their memories of Selina at Adzuki. She's smiling, she's teasing, she's laughing, she's -- 

Shocked. Angry. *Disgusted* -- 

The Fox brushes her away, and Dinah is looking at them with a rueful and *quirked* smile -- 

And Bruce sits on the back of the chair next to the Fox's own and sighs. I can't decide if we were too adaptable for Selina or not adaptable *enough*. 

The Fox cups Bruce's thigh, squeezes and strokes --

No, it doesn't matter --

I -- not that.

No...? 

It *matters*. She -- we. Okay, no, she *didn't* start this whole -- this whole *thing* -- 

She was the beginning of our... awareness. 

Dinah fades from the screen, which fills with a wash of purple that zooms out and out until it's clear they're looking at Selina's long, powerful thigh. 

She was... Bruce shakes his head. She was not for us. 

And -- the Fox can deal. He can. He scratches at his mustache and -- She was good. She was -- she felt good. Warm. 

In every way, and Bruce covers the hand the Fox has on his thigh. We cannot make ourselves less adaptable. 

No, and -- I wouldn't want to. We *shouldn't* want to. 

We can -- and will -- do what is best for our loved ones and ourselves. 

Yeah. Always. 

Bruce squeezes the Fox's hand. 

We're always gonna find a way, Brucie. 

Yes. 

And -- hey... 

The Fox focuses on Carlyle, who's up again and pacing *around* the little end table where her phone's sitting. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hands are shaking -- hunh. 

She didn't take anything, Fox. 

Yeah, no, I know. But... I didn't picture her for the crying type. 

Nor did I. Though she *is* under a phenomenal amount of stress. 

The Fox shows his teeth and claws at the rooftop with his gloved fingers. 

I sense a profound lack of sympathy -- 

We've been *over* this, Brucie. 

So we -- 

Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, *dial* that phone, bitch -- 

Fox. 

Even *Harvey* -- 

Need not be *encouraged* -- 

I'm not gonna call her an 'evil-doer,' Brucie. 

You could consider gender-neutral epithets -- 

Five numbers -- 

Six -- 

Seven -- let it ring let it *ring* -- 

The Fox picks up his 'ghost' receiver and waits to see -- 

"Hello...?" An older *woman's* voice, and that's *interesting*, that could -- 

"M-mom? Are you -- I know it's late, but..." 

Oh, for the love of -- 

Bruce coughs a laugh internally and turns the Fox's head so they don't growl too loudly *externally*. 

*Thank* you, Brucie -- 

It *could* still be illuminating.

I know, I *know* -- 

So they listen. 

"-- you can *always* call me, Helly, now tell me what's *wrong*." 

"Oh -- oh, Mom, I'm in trouble," Carlyle says, and -- that's not a sob. That's more of a shuddering inhale. 

"What *kind* of trouble?" 

"I can't -- um. I can't really -- could you. Could you just maybe..." 

"Oh, Helly, what *is* it?" 

"I'm. I think I'm about to get fired." 

Mama Carlyle gasps for that -- and then clears her throat. "You -- well, you know your father and I always thought you could do better than just a D.A.'s office --" 

"I can't. I can't do better, at all. Not anymore, Mom," and Carlyle bites her lip and *yanks* at her own hair. 

"What are you talking about? You graduated *magna cum laude*. You should be *running* that office!" 

Carlyle laughs painfully, scrubs at her eyes -- "I'm -- I did something. I took money." 

Oh, *yeah* -- 

"-- *that* mean?" 

"It means. I'm dirty, Mom. I'm. I'm dirty and they *know* it."

Give up the *goods* -- 

We must be patient -- 

Yeah, yeah, don't *wanna* -- 

Hm. 

Shut up -- 

" -- just don't *understand* --" 

"I needed money, okay? I needed --" 

"We would've *given* you money, Helene --" 

"I can't -- you can't -- it was. It was just fucking *poker*, Mom, and I owed -- I don't even know how much anymore. I was drunk, and I was -- there was *coke*, and I just wanted try it --" 

"*Helene*!" 

Carlyle sobs then, but only once. "It was *stupid*. I just -- I felt like -- there were all these guys flashing huge amounts of cash and hitting on me and buying me drinks -- they set me *up*, okay? It was all -- all a fucking *lie*. They *knew* I was an ADA, they saw me *coming*." 

Well, now. 

Yes. 

That's downright *interesting*, Brucie. 

One has to wonder -- 

Who *else* has gotten set up like this. 

Indeed -- 

Bruce. 

Hm. My apologies. 

Heh. *Now* I have a little sympathy for her. 

He can *feel* Brucie raising his eyebrows for that, but -- 

It's simple, Brucie. She was just spreading her wings a little, having some fun. *Everybody's* allowed to have fun sometimes. 

She used *cocaine* -- 

And that probably wouldn't have happened without all the booze -- 

Which she *could* have said -- 

Wait. 

"-- just. Oh, Mom, it doesn't *matter* who they are --" 

"What are you *talking* about, Helly? Of *course* it matters!" 

"No one can *do* anything!" 

"You -- you can *explain* to the boss --" 

"It's Wayne, Mom! Wayne *knows* and he looks at me -- he looks at me like I'm dirt under his *shoe*!" 

Fox...

Oh, yeah, she's ready. The Fox drops the ghost and swings for it, busting her cheap little screen and landing in her living room. "Tell your Mom you're busy, sweetness." 

Carlyle stares at him for a long moment, blinking and *shaking* -- 

"Helly...? Helly, what's going on?" 

"Uh. Um. The... the Fox is here." 

The Fox smiles and takes a *bow* -- 

"Oh, God. I think. I think he heard everything, Mom --" 

"I *really* did." 

"Shit, shit -- I gotta go --" 

"Helene!" 

"I'll call back -- when I can. I'm so sorry, Mom. Please -- please don't be too disappointed in me?" 

"Helene --" 

And Carlyle hangs up the phone just as neat as you please. 

"Tch. You *really* need to call her back sooner rather than later, sweetness --" 

"Don't -- my name is Helene Carlyle --" 

"And you're just as dirty as dirty can be," the Fox says, and makes a show of looking over the apartment. "You live quiet, though. I couldn't figure that part out for the *longest* time. I *knew* you were dirty -- you ought to be more careful with your phone calls -- but I couldn't tell where the money was going." 

"I don't -- I haven't had a *cent* of it --" 

"Because it all went toward paying your debt. How much is left...?" 

Carlyle rubs her temples. "I don't -- I gave up trying to count. The interest -- you know how these people work." 

"I do, I *really* do. And one of the ways they work? Is by making people like *you* think there's no way out." 

Carlyle stiffens *hard*. 

Yeah, think about it, lady. And don't think about how I overheard you talking to your handler when it's pretty damned clear that you don't call him from *here*. 

Yes, that was... a disappointing visit to Harvey's office. 

Really, *really* yeah -- 

And Carlyle blows out a breath and looks up. "You can -- you can get me out of this?" 

The Fox makes a show of studying his nails. "Maybe with a few hundred hours of community service. You'll never be an ADA again -- and forget having anything like a political career for a good, long while -- but hey, who really knows?" The Fox looks at her again. "We both know how this game goes, Carlyle." 

She looks queasy -- "Wayne wants my head on the *block*." 

"Yeah, he does. He doesn't *like* corrupt officers even one little bit, and you made some *bad* mistakes. But he's a realist on top of being a goody-goody. You give him something he can sink his *teeth* into..." 

And *now* she looks fucking *green* -- 

"Don't lose your equilibrium, Carlyle. You've got *one* chance to avoid prison. Or did you miss the day when they talked about what happens to dirty cops -- and lawyers -- in the big house?" 

*That* makes her hug herself -- "I -- I might be *safer* in prison --" 

The Fox snorts. "You're five-three and about one-fifteen. You've got pretty soft hands and prettier long hair. You're a *girly* little thing and you call your *mother* when you're in trouble. You? Would *not* be safer in prison." 

"Fuck. Fuck. I just --" 

"Do you really think *they'll* take care of you, Carlyle? Reward your *loyalty*? You're a pawn with a useful trick -- and you haven't *been* all that useful since Wayne figured out how dirty you were --" 

"Doesn't anyone get a chance to be *scared* in your world?" 

"Oh, *absolutely*. I'm scared all the time. Right now? I'm *real* scared of what you're gonna make me do to you before you tell me what I need to *know*." 

A blink -- 

A *lot* of blinking -- 

The Fox cracks his *knuckles* -- 

"Thorne! He -- he -- he's a silent partner in some of the casinos in Atlantic City --" 

"I *know* that, lady --" 

"*Fuck* -- I -- I never really -- I only met the *handler* --" 

"Who is...?" 

Carlyle *pants* a little -- 

The Fox taps the watch he isn't wearing -- 

"God, you -- his name is *Glenn*. I remembered that because I was expecting him to be a *Tony* or a *Dino* or something --" 

The Fox sucks his teeth. "Gotta watch attitudes like *that*, lady --" 

"Oh, like you *don't* take a second look at every guy with an Italian surname in this town!" 

"You know, I *was* getting all set to go to bat for you --" 

"Oh -- oh, God, right, I'm sorry, I'm just -- it's just the stress!" 

"Riiight. Tell me more about *Glenn*." 

"He -- he was at the casino that night, too." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

"People -- they were calling him. Fingers." 

The Fox coughs. "And that didn't clue you in? How long had you *been* an ADA?" 

"I thought it was just -- he looked like a *college* professor, okay?" 

I find her increasingly distasteful. 

You and me both, brother. 

I wonder what her mother is like. 

She seemed pretty nice. And -- not everyone comes out like their mothers, Brucie. 

No, of course not, but... still. 

Yeah -- 

"-- *please*, Fox! I just -- I'll tell you everything I know!" 

"Talk *faster*." 

"Fingers -- *Glenn* -- he wears little wire-rimmed glasses. Sweaters -- uh. *Cardigans* --" 

"Who does he pal around with?" 

"No one! I mean -- I always meet with *only* him --" 

"*Who* was calling him Fingers at the casino?" 

"God, I. One of them. One of them was Zucco. The guy you just --" 

"You don't say." 

Her smile is ingratiating and just a little *greasy* as she nods. "Yes, I -- that's why I think it's a Thorne operation --" 

"Who else other than Zucco?" 

"You can *lean* on him --" 

"Lady, I'm only gonna say this once, so listen up. Are you listening?" 

Carlyle swallows and nods. 

"Zucco's going down for the double murder pf those acrobats and the *attempted* murder of their little boy. Even if Harvey Wayne would *consider* flipping him --" 

"His fucking brother -- probably some kind of *pedophile* -- fine, fine, okay. I -- there were two other people whose names I heard. One was -- uh... Mikey. Michael." 

"*Real* helpful --" 

"And the other." Carlyle looks down at the floor and shudders all over. 

"*Talk*!" 

She jerks -- "Johnny. Johnny Handsome." 

"The hitman." 

"I -- yes." 

"You played *poker* with a *hitman*?" 

"I was *high*!" 

The Fox just -- looks at her.

"It was -- it was the dumbest night of my *life*, okay? I thought -- none of them even acted like they *knew* the guy, and I thought, 'hey, I know something they don't, ha ha, this'll be a story I can tell for *years*.'" 

"But it didn't go down like that." 

"Really -- not. God, I don't even know any of their real last *names* --" 

"When are you due to meet with Glenn again?" 

"I don't -- he calls *me*, okay? At *work*." And Carlyle looks like she's getting ready to *think* about that -- 

About how the Fox might *know* -- 

Distraction would seem to be the better part of --

Yeah. The Fox snaps his fingers in front of her nose. "With *me*, Carlyle." 

"Yes, what, fine --" 

"You're ours now." 

"Ours -- it's not even *legal* what Wayne and the Commissioner are doing with you --" 

"Not even a little bit. But *you're* about to sign a few papers in Wayne's office agreeing to surveillance starting as soon as the techs can roll in --"

"*No* --" 

"*Yes*. You don't *have* any options, lady --" 

"Or else you'll beat the crap out of me? Make me piss myself? *What*?" 

"Or *else* I call up every reporter in this town to show up in front of your house and shout questions at you on the five o'clock, six o'clock, ten o'clock, and eleven o'clock news. I make sure to leak the bits about the coke and the hitman -- and the bits about where your mother lives." 

Carlyle rears back -- 

Nicely done, Fox. 

Hey, I'm not a one-trick pony over here. 

Hmm. I don't think I have that kink. 

The Fox -- doesn't choke. He *does* raise his eyebrows and point to the phone. 

"I -- I don't even have Wayne's home *number* --" 

"I *do*. You just get ready to punch in the numbers." 

In the end, it takes the better part of two hours to get everything set up as quietly as possible. 

The Fox'll be shocked if they manage to get Handsome out of this -- or even Handsome's real fucking *name* --

And he's not even *close* to hoping they'll get anything on *Thorne* -- 

But. 

Glenn. That's a name he doesn't *know*, yet. 

I feel quite strongly that you will. 

You know it, Brucie. 

When it's all said and done -- and he's taken the opportunity to go over the techs' work on Carlyle's work and home phones with a fine-toothed comb -- the Fox blows Harvey a kiss -- 

Harvey pinches the bridge of his nose and waves -- 

And the Fox makes his exit. 

He makes life a little more painful for a handful of crack dealers -- 

He breaks a purse-snatcher's nose -- 

He breaks a pimp's entire *face* -- 

And he finds Canary in a writhing, punching, kicking, and *terribly* unfriendly pile of Massive muscle. 

Her back-canary is hanging off her top and generally being a yanking hazard, so he greets her by slicing it off -- 

And then slicing open the face of the *lovely* young man fumbling with a gun. 

The gun gets dropped, and now some of Canary's pile is coming his way -- 

"Gentlemen! Let's get *nasty*!" 

His tosses are all perfect -- perforating three different shoulders in rapid succession. 

His *first* kick misses when the target manages to trip over his own feet in the luckiest *possible* way... until the Fox stomps on him, anyway. 

He gets in two more good spin-kicks -- 

One more toss that'll lead to something that looks like weeping stigmata for a good week -- 

And then he's down to punches and stomps, weak little shin-kicks because there's no damned *room* -- 

Canary's grunt sounds *pained* -- 

The world's just a little too *crowded* -- 

And then the Fox breaks free and starts throwing elbows. One, two, three -- 

Four for the lights-out -- 

"Fox, ears!" 

The Fox flips back out of range and *covers* -- 

And Canary blasts away four guys who really should've known better, and *everyone* is bleeding a little from the ears except for him and Canary. 

How did she refine the *frequency* so *precisely*? 

Ask her *later*, Brucie. "Neat trick, gorgeous," the Fox says, and doles out a few nerve strikes before zip-stripping his half of the pile. 

"Thank you *kindly*, Foxy. Where've *you* been all night?" 

"Here and there. Mostly *there* -- and I'll tell you when we have a little privacy." 

She gives him a *hot* look for that -- 

And so maybe, just maybe, they spend a little time getting to know each other a little *better* on the roof of the old Kane widget factory while about two dozen police officers process the Massive thugs they'd left for them. 

Maybe -- 

Maybe it's *necessary* to get his shirt right off, his armor -- 

"Oh, *Fox* --" 

Maybe the Canary's new uniform still has a handy zipper -- 

"Yeah, *yeah* --" 

And maybe Dinah likes his chest hair *just* fine -- especially on her face. 

And her nipples. 

And her hard little belly -- 

"God, *yes*, Fox --" 

Up against a leg of the water tower with their pants around their ankles, and the Fox sits up and *hauls* Dinah down, down -- 

And Dinah shoves most of her fist in her mouth -- 

And the Fox groans and grunts and *bucks* for it -- "*Tight* little girl --" 

Dinah nods *frantically* -- 

"Just like -- just --" The Fox growls and bites her throat through her uniform, grabs one hip and one *tit* -- "*Ride*!" 

She rises like a goddess out of the damned *sea* -- 

She drops like a whore with a *grudge* -- 

Fox. 

I know, I *know*, but *feel* -- 

Yes. Yes, I -- 

And it's just fucking *necessary* to hold her up for a moment, *suck* her pretty pink nipples, lick and *bite* -- 

*Not* avoid all of the aging bruises -- 

A moment more -- 

Yeah, Bruce, *do* it -- 

Bruce rises and hums, *suckling* the way he knows now he will always be... inclined toward. 

*Kinked* -- 

Yes, that -- 

"Fox -- *please*, Fox --" 

"Just me," Bruce says, smiling and holding Dinah in position so that he can *rock* in, thrust and *slide* -- 

"Nuh -- *nnh* --" 

"Beautiful girl --" 

"Do it, do me --" 

Bruce kisses her, lifts her and *moves* her -- 

Her shout rattles his *teeth* -- and then she pulls away from the kiss and *chokes* herself, eyes heavy-lidded and just the *tip* of her tongue protruding -- 

"I would have this -- every day --" 

Dinah *smiles* -- and begins to clench. To -- 

The Fox growls and rises, gripping her shoulders from the back and *working* her onto him -- 

*Making* her take him -- 

And her eyes are wide and *shocked* for a moment -- 

Her eyes start to go *dazed* -- 

And then she swallows about *half* of a scream and starts to buck and clench *viciously* for her orgasm, over and over again until the Fox is grunting like some half-crazy animal -- 

She leans in and bites his *jaw* -- 

"*Dinah* --" 

"*Do* it, Fox!" 

"You -- fucking *know* me --" 

And *this* clench can't be anything but on-purpose. It goes on and *on* -- 

She *croons* -- 

She cups *his* throat and raises her *eyebrows* -- 

Jesus fuck -- 

Squeeze -- 

And the Fox is grateful for it, because coming like this makes him wanna shout, wanna *howl*. He's *losing* it, pumping into the condom and wanting more, wanting *deeper* -- 

She's still *squeezing*, and it doesn't matter that he can still breathe, because -- 

"*Fuck*." 

Dinah giggles then, and the sound follows him into the -- haze. Not black. Jesus. 

Fuck.

Hell. 

Indeed -- 

*Stop* that.

It always seems to focus you so *well*. 

God, since when are you a *bitch*?

Hm. That's fascinating. 

What? 

I *don't* find it offensive for you to call *me*... that. 

But you still can't say it. 

Nor am I likely to be able to in the near future. But...? 

Oh, go ahead. I need that candy cigarette I dropped somewhere around here. 

Check in the theater, and Bruce rises and cups Dinah's face, kissing her softly and warmly, tasting the acid of spent need in her mouth -- 

"Mmm, *Bruce*." 

"Are my kisses so distinctive?" 

Dinah closes her eyes and licks her lips. "I can always feel you wanting to *worship* me a little." 

"Many religions suggest that sex is a sacrament." 

"Uh, huh. And that's -- wait." She opens her eyes. "You're not *religious*, are you?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Not particularly, no --" 

She blows out a relieved breath. "Thank *God*. I mean -- uh." She giggles again. "Don't mind me? Seriously, religion is *dangerous*!" 

"I... do try to avoid it --" 

"*Keep* avoiding it! I mean, we were almost shit outta luck between dimensions because a few of us started *believing* in those elder gods." 

Bruce blinks. "You... hm." 

"Seriously, if you meet a god -- heh. *When* you meet a god? Do everything you *can* to not believe in them. Believe in *yourself* and your *allies*, okay?" 

"I imagine the alternative gives those... beings more power?" 

"*Exactly*," and Dinah stretches and sighs, craning to look over the edge of the roof. "Ooh, plainclothes showed up. I guess we beat up someone important tonight." 

"The gentleman whose cheekbone you broke bears a strong resemblance to the artist's rendering of a serial rapist." 

"Oh! You should've told me!" 

Bruce inclines his head. "The Fox took the liberty of stepping rather firmly on his genitals." 

Dinah snorts. 

"Repeatedly." 

"But you don't *know*!" 

"The Fox believes in... hmm... better safe than sorry...?" 

Dinah *cackles* -- 

Clenches -- 

They grunt *together* -- 

And then Dinah sighs and wraps her arms around his neck. "I should be convincing you to wear a uniform like Carter's." 

"I'm not very much of an exhibitionist --" 

"Is *Fox*?" 

"Hm. You have a point. Still... it would set a terrible example for my ward." 

"Like you *don't* want to see him running around in as few clothes as possible." 

Bruce coughs into his fist -- 

And Dinah cackles a bit more. 

"When it comes to the *street* --" 

"I know, I know, I'm just messing with you. *Clark* said you two made nice." 

Bruce laughs softly. "If that's the way he wants to put it --" 

Dinah slaps him lightly. 

"Hm. Does he always... ah... hm." 

Dinah raises her eyebrows. 

"There was... a rather shockingly large quantity of... ejaculate --" 

Dinah snorts and -- 

That was really almost a *honk* -- 

"Uh. Yes. Just -- yeah. He's kind of a come factory. That *never* shuts down. Which, if you think about it, kinda makes sense." 

"Only if he's taking in nutrients at speed and in quantity --" 

"Bruce. *Alien*." 

"But --" 

"He told the League once that he reproduced by *budding* and *nobody could tell if he was kidding*." 

"I -- hm. He does seem to take a certain amount of pleasure from --" 

"Fucking with people as Clarkishly as possible?" 

Bruce leans in and kisses the corners of Dinah's mouth. "As you say. Did he mention what we were doing?" 

"Uh, huh. Well, the basics, anyway. Are you *sure* it's a good idea to *give* Luthor an assassin-trained child?" 

"I am, yes. If nothing else -- and there is a great deal more than nothing -- he will never be moved to judge her for her past." 

"No, I guess *not*, but --" Dinah shakes herself in a rather canine way. "Uh. I think we'd *all* feel better if you kind of, you know. Sat on him a little?" 

"I'll be visiting soon. *Quite* soon if the Commissioner doesn't need me for anything in particular." 

"Oh, yeah, what *were* you doing tonight?" 

He tells her about Carlyle then, making it something of a test for his focus -- the orgasm- and chafing-related swelling in her vagina is going down even as they speak, and a very large part of him only wishes... more. 

You gotta get home, Brucie. It's after *three*. 

Oh... Dick. 

Uh, huh. 

Yes. Bruce wraps up the story, then -- 

And Dinah cocks her head to the side. "Time for you to go home?" 

"I don't wish to rush you in any way --" 

Dinah grins and leans in to give him... a nose kiss. "You're gonna do him tonight?" 

Bruce shivers. "I -- he only wished to share a bed with me --" 

"You *know* what boys are like at that age." 

"Dinah --" 

"Yeah, yeah, you *talked* about it. But... how long do you think he's *gonna* be afraid of you?" 

Bruce closes his eyes. 

"Mm-hmm, *exactly*. Well, at least you got off a couple of times today -- you might actually be able to say no." 

Bruce opens his eyes. "Dinah --" 

"Or, you know. Say yes with *all* of yourself." 

"Hm. I sense a lack of faith in my continence." 

Dinah pats his cheek. "Don't make it sound like you're gonna pee on him." 

The Fox rises and chokes. "Gorgeous, don't make me wash your mouth out with --" 

"Semen? God, you know what? *Everybody* needs to go down on Clark at least once. Just for the experience." 

"And the protein supplements?" 

Dinah snickers and kneels up off their dick -- "Ooh -- yeah. Admit it, Bruce wanted to take some to his lab." 

"You're assuming he *didn't*?" 

She smacks him again. "Let's get *dressed*. You have a *ward* to get home to." 

The Fox sighs. "I really, *really* do. You know the *plan* is to be good, right?" 

"Uh, huh, and I even *believe* you. *Both* of you," she says, and starts dressing. 

The Fox does the same. "How do you think he's gonna get us?" 

"By being sincere, and brave, and true, and *wise*." 

"He might be all of that and decide to be good *himself*." 

Dinah looks at him. 

"Yeah, okay, we're doomed. We're still gonna go down *fighting* --" 

Dinah snickers. "Go down *gentle*, Foxy. It's his first time." 

And so it's just a *little* necessary to smack Dinah's ass -- 

And get his own smacked -- 

And get dressed *faster*, because there's no way all the cops down below are missing the giggling freakjobs on the roof. When he's buttoned up tight again, he pulls Dinah close and kisses her *exactly* like he means it -- 

And what, precisely, is wrong with worship? 

Takes too *long* sometimes, Brucie -- 

This kiss has lasted over a minute. 

But I'm saying a whole lot more with it than just 'you're wonderful and beautiful and I'm grateful to know you.' I mean, I'm saying *that*, but I'm also saying what a hot piece she is, and how much my dick likes her, and how one day I *will* be crawling into her bedroom at night -- 

I take your point. 

Thought you would. And the Fox licks his way out of Dinah's mouth -- 

Pinches her ass -- 

Cups her pussy through her tights and *lifts* -- 

"*Oh* -- mmm. Yeah. Tomorrow night?" 

"Assuming I'm not in the *rich* city." 

Dinah sighs happily. "Slut." 

"You know it," and the Fox runs and leaps off the roof, shooting his grapple just late enough to *buzz* all the black and whites -- 

To get shouted at as he *salutes* them -- 

And *then* it's time to head home, and to *not* tear up the streets like there's a bomb threat in a neonatal ward -- 

He's got a *ward* -- 

He's got *Dick*, beautiful Dick, graceful, violent, *smart* Dick -- 

So maybe he takes it up over a hundred, anyway. 

Maybe -- 

Maybe he's fucking thrilled to live *in* the city, instead of having to head all the way out to Bristol or Worth where there would've been space to sprawl but way too many *provincials* paying attention to the growl of his engines -- 

He's gotta get *home* -- 

And maybe that's why all he does is blow *through* a pocket of dealers -- 

Twice -- 

And with his *fists* out the second time -- 

Good enough. 

He pulls into the garage at quarter to four, parks, checks to see if Alfred is still up -- no. 

There's a snack for him in the kitchen, and he eats all of it before he figures out what it *was*. He -- 

He needs. 

He strips down to his boxer briefs, puts his clothes in the hamper, and pauses by the bathroom -- 

He *needs*. He -- 

And Dickie's not in his own bedroom. His heart fucking *hammers* for that -- until he looks at *his* bed, where Dick is curled up right in the middle. Right -- 

He's so small. 

He's so -- 

There's an ache that goes right through him, diffuse and -- not localized anywhere in particular. There's an *ache*, and the Fox doesn't stop wanting to whimper until he's crawling in beside Dickie, until he's got one hand on Dickie's chest, feeling it rise and fall and rise again -- 

"Dickie..." 

"Mmm?" Dickie blinks and smiles, bright and sleepy and *wide* -- 

It pulls a smile out of him, too. "Hey. Sorry I'm so late --" 

"It's okay! I --" Dickie yawns and shakes himself, mussing his hair -- 

He is... so beautiful. 

Yeah. Yeah -- 

"I -- I didn't know what side of the bed you slept on." 

"Brucie takes the right. I take the middle." 

"Oh -- okay --" 

"With you..." The Fox grins and shakes his head. "Wherever you're comfortable, Dickie --" 

"No, I'll take the left," and he *starts* to move -- 

And stops. 

Mainly because the Fox is holding him *down* -- 

"Oh. Fox...?" 

"I... I gotta go brush my teeth. I'll be back." 

Dickie frowns for that, but nods. 

The Fox goes to the bathroom -- 

One could wish for... something. 

Something? 

Not saltpeter, obviously, but -- 

Something, yeah. The Fox smiles at their reflection and brushes as fast as he can -- 

And Dickie pushes in with his own toothbrush. He's *blushing* -- "I just -- um. We're gonna talk, right?" 

The Fox nods. 

"So I need to brush my teeth, too." 

The Fox nods again and finishes up, uses some mouthwash, flosses -- 

Spends every moment possible near to Dick... 

That, too, Brucie. That, too. 

Still, in the fluorescents it's clear that there are tear tracks on Dickie's face, interrupting all the smooth, sleek olive -- 

Bruce rises and dampens a face cloth with warm water and wipes the salt tracks away. Dick watches him in the mirror and blushes more deeply. He -- 

Bruce strokes Dick's hair softly, gently -- "I'll wait for you." 

Dick nods. 

Bruce strokes Dick one more time -- 

We're not doing this in the *bathroom*. 

We're not -- we're *not*. 

No, right, we -- 

They go, and fold back the covers on the left more neatly, and climb in on the right. They stare up at the ceiling. 

They bring the hand they used to stroke Dick's hair to their face and breathe deeply, deeply -- 

They do not turn over and nose at the sheets like an animal. Not -- not yet. 

When Dick comes out of the bathroom, he is graceful in the gloom -- 

The Fox rises and turns on the bedside lamp anyway before sitting up on his elbows. 

"Thanks... Fox?" 

The Fox nods. "Brucie almost never gets into this position." 

Dickie climbs in. "It's too... casual?" 

"It makes him feel like he's playing a role." 

"I don't think -- I mean, it's kinda weird to rule out a whole *position*, Fox," and Dickie presses close -- 

All along the Fox's *side* -- 

And he's just a little hard. Just -- 

"Do *you* have any positions you don't get into?" 

"I'm a little loud pretty much all the time," the Fox says, settling back with his arm around Dickie. "Is this okay?" 

Dickie nods. "Loud like... you're always putting on a show." 

The Fox grins. "You know it, Dickie-bird. Nothing like a little showmanship." 

"My Dad -- said things like that. All the time." 

The Fox closes his eyes -- no, not that. "Should I apologize?" 

"No. Just. No." 

"'Just'...?" 

Dickie strokes the Fox's chest. "Will you tell me about your scars? I mean -- the stories behind them." 

"Every last one, if you want. But --" 

"It." Dickie pushes his face against the Fox's side, scrubbing it back and forth a little. "It's just. I don't want to think about them right now." 

"I wish I'd been here earlier --" 

"I don't *want* to cry on you all the time, Fox! And -- you don't really handle --" 

"We're changing, Dickie." 

"Um. What does that mean?" 

The Fox squeezes Dickie. "It means that Brucie's a little older now, and I'm a little... well, look at what we're doing." 

"Oh. *Oh*. And -- you're sure you're okay?" 

"I've got you in my arms. I'm *great*." 

"You really. You love me. Both of you." 

"Uh, huh. And we don't really..." The Fox smiles ruefully. "It's forever, Dickie. I promise." 

Dickie nods -- and kisses the Fox's side -- 

And does it again -- 

And does it again. And shivers. "I like -- the way you smell." 

"The feeling's mutual." 

"Um. I like the way Bruce smells, too. He has... a lot of cologne?" 

"Some, yeah. Harvey picked out some, Mom picked out others, *Alfred* picked one to make Brucie smell more mature... they're all pretty good, I think." 

Dickie strokes down to the slash scar that snakes over the Fox's left side down over his hip and under the boxer briefs. "Does this. I mean... how far does it go?" 

The Fox moves his arm from around Dickie and tugs the boxer briefs down. "Just a little." 

Dickie strokes the scar -- and leaves his fingers there for a moment that's just -- "Tell me about it?" 

The Fox covers Dickie's fingers with his own -- just for a moment. "Elizabeth Bennett -- the papers call her the Saint, she just calls herself *Sister* Elizabeth -- has a real gift for getting fundamentalists from all *kinds* of religious backgrounds to go along with her flights of pure creamery crazy --" 

Dickie snorts -- 

"Liked that, did ya?" 

"*Yes*. Tell me more?" 

"Sure thing," and the Fox wraps his arm around Dickie again, giving himself a moment to wonder what he took from Bruce in order to have this -- 

Nothing, brother. 

But -- 

We are... growing. 

Uh. 

Tell Dick -- 

Yeah. "Uh -- anyway. She pulled some henchmen *that* time from this storefront church in the Libertyville part of town. These guys *used* to be Jehovah's Witnesses, but they got a little too extreme. Bennett eats 'too extreme' for breakfast, lunch, *and* dinner, so, even though the cultists weren't that keen on women in position of power, they went along. First there were a few bank heists -- holy wars need to be bankrolled, *too* -- and then came their big plan to take *me* out." 

Dickie frowns -- 

"Yeah, Dickie?" 

"I -- why do they *do* that? Deliberately go after the heroes, I mean. They have to know that they'll have better luck just committing crimes *away* from the heroes. I mean... don't they?" 

"Heh. There are all *kinds* of criminals who can't *make* that leap of logic, Dickie-bird. Maybe because they're just plain dumb -- but maybe because they're crazy. I mean, take Bennett. She grew up with a couple of real prizes for parents -- they abused her every *which* way -- so, by the time she got taken in by a couple of elderly fundies when she was twelve or so, the fact that they fed her three times a day and never *raped* her made them look like -- heh -- saints. She thought she'd found the One True Way to live her life, and, for her, the fact that other people don't *want* to live that way just doesn't *compute*." 

"But -- doesn't she --" Dickie frowns again and rubs at Bruce's chest a little restlessly. "She has to know that people *prefer* to, I don't know, have *fun*. And -- read something other than the Bible. And have *sex*." 

"See, that's the thing. When a kid's world gets as confusing as hers did, things that make even a *little* sense start seeming like -- heh -- God's truth. In her mind, she's doing us all a favor by trying to forcibly convert us. More than that -- she's doing her God-given *duty*. So, someone like me comes along. I curse, I drink, I fight, and -- oh, yeah -- I make out with other men, all in ways that make me pretty famous." The Fox winks. "Or at least infamous. I start seeming like *the* Adversary -- rather than just an opponent. With *that* bit of psychosis in place, the *logical* -- for her -- leap to make is that I'm somehow *keeping* people from understanding that her way is the best. So...?" 

"So she has to -- defeat you. Not just kill you." 

"*Exactly*. And it has to be as public as possible. Still, I recognized Bennett's handiwork after the second heist -- I was already looking for her after her escape from Arkham -- and I found her *before* she got her huge, disturbing death trap set up. Unfortunately, she'd kidnapped a few 'sinners' to act as human armor, and I *had* to rescue them before I could get anything else done -- she was seriously in the process of burning two of them at the *stake*." 

"Jesus! Or --" Dickie snorts -- "Um. You probably don't curse like that much when you're dealing with *her*." 

"On the contrary, Dickie -- I consider it my *duty* to be blasphemous around her as much as *possible*. And not just because it sometimes pisses her off enough that she starts making *mistakes*." 

Dickie nods thoughtfully. "You -- the fan magazines talk about you like... I don't know. 'The Bad Boy of Gotham.' Like you *don't* actually get anything done." 

The Fox smiles. "The less seriously people take me? The more I *can* get done. Though that wouldn't be the case if I hadn't gotten a *few* people to trust me, like Commissioner Gordon." 

"He's -- I saw him that night. He's... good?" 

"The best, really. Even though he's a cop," the Fox says, and waggles his eyebrows at Dickie a little. "He taught me some of what I know about being a detective. *And* he's got that gruff, manly voice, those big, hard hands --" 

"*Fox*! He's *old*!" 

The Fox laughs and shakes his head. "Not really. He's only got fifteen years on me, Dickie." 

"Oh. *Really*?" 

"He's been through about sixteen kinds of hell cleaning up the department -- and that doesn't even *include* the crap he took for not being a native Gothamite." 

"Where *is* he from?" 

"Chi-town. And -- yeah. He averages about two death threats a week. It *used* to be more than that -- and some of them got delivered to his little *girl*. He drinks and smokes too much -- ah, I don't know. I wish I had the right to take care of him, sometimes. A *lot* of the time. Someone needs to." 

"Who... Alfred takes care of you." 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "He's the best, Dickie. And -- he wants to take care of you, too." 

Dickie blushes for that. "I know," he mutters. 

"Dickie...?" 

"Um. He -- talked to me. About sex." 

The Fox blinks. "He -- wanted to make sure you knew about the birds and the bees?" 

"No -- I mean. He told me that I *could* ask about that stuff, but -- I grew up in a *circus*, Fox. With *animals*. And *people*." 

"So you did, so you did," and the Fox squeezes Dickie again. "He -- wanted to talk about me. About us." 

Dickie presses close. "Yeah. He told me. He wanted me to know -- um. He wanted to make sure I knew that I never had to... do anything with you." 

"He's absolutely right --" 

"I *know* -- I mean. I *do* know, Fox. You don't have to -- I promise, okay?" 

The Fox turns enough to kiss Dickie's forehead. "Okay. But -- if I ever make you feel uncomfortable? For *anything* --" 

"I'll *tell* you," Dickie says, and scratches at his chest a little. 

"Dickie --" 

"Nothing -- I'll never be scared of you again, Fox. *Or* of Bruce." 

The Fox frowns. "You gotta --" 

"No, I *don't*. Because -- because I know I won't get what I *want* if I'm scared. And -- and that's it." 

The Fox closes his eyes for a moment -- 

Dinah had an excellent point earlier. 

Yeah, she *really* did -- 

I want... I find that I want him on top of us. Looking down at us. 

The Fox sighs and opens his eyes. "You -- c'mere," and the Fox moves Dickie into a straddle of his waist -- 

"*Oh* --" 

"Just gotta -- gotta *see* you." 

"Um. Okay." And Dickie smiles -- and hugs him with his thighs. And rests his palms on the Fox's pecs. "You're so *big*!" 

"My Dad always said that kind of thing ran on his side of the family." 

"And -- your Mom?" 

The Fox pinches his fingers together. "Real petite. She's only a *couple* of inches taller than you." 

Dickie bites his lip. "You like that." 

"I -- heh, no. I *love* Mom, but *not* that way." 

"I mean -- you said that -- but what's your *type*? I mean -- both of you?" And Dickie is searching him *hard*, looking for every *hint* --

"You're the most beautiful boy in the world --" 

"You *said* that, but you -- you like *men* and *women*." 

"I do, I *really* do. But Dickie..." The Fox shakes his head and twines his fingers with Dickie's own. "We don't really *have* physical types. I gotta be honest here -- you and Harvey are the *only* people we've ever wanted without talking a little first." 

Dickie blinks. 

"Yeah --" 

"I -- wow. I think I'm really *shallow* --" 

"Or *we're* really *weird*. I know which one I'll lay *my* money on." 

Dickie snorts again. "Okay, okay. I just -- and you think you'll *still* want me when I grow up." 

"Bruce *never* stopped wanting Harvey -- I gotta admit, the incest is a little too heavy there for me, considering Bruce made me to be a little *like* Harvey --" 

"Oh! Um -- go on?" 

"Heh, yeah. Bruce met Harvey when they were only a little older than *you*, Dickie. He hardly looks anything like he did then." 

"But he's still -- hot." 

"Part of Bruce's mind is just -- full of every time Harvey ever touched him. Or looked like he *wanted* to touch him." 

"*Still*?" 

"He was the only friend Bruce ever had... until now." 

Dickie nods. "I'm -- I'll always be your friend. Both of you." 

The Fox grins and kisses the backs of Dickie's hands. 

"That seems like something *Bruce* would do, Fox." 

"Heh, nah. Bruce only kisses the *back* of someone's hand when he's *introducing* himself --" 

Another snort -- 

"And we both like kissing -- and licking, and biting -- other parts of the hand." 

Dickie nods. "And -- you never fall out of love." 

"Not ever." 

A *decisive* nod. "What happened after you rescued the people Bennett was burning? Was that when you got cut?" 

"*While* I was rescuing them -- a nice couple of guys out of Pinktown -- the henchmen attacked. *Usually* it wouldn't have been so bad -- they were big and fast and armed, but not trained all that well -- but I had the hostages to think of *and* they were ex-Witnesses who still believed in *most* of the Witness doctrine." 

"Why -- does that make a difference?" 

"Oh, *absolutely*. See, the thing is, Witnesses refuse, among other things, to get blood transfusions. That makes things *hinky* for things like surgery -- or for things like getting stabbed by your friendly and *fabulous* local vigilante. I *couldn't* risk them dying for a principle." 

"*Oh*. I -- what did you do?" 

"Mostly? Karate. And it was all going *fairly* well until one of the Witnesses -- a former Olympic-class fencer if you can believe that -- picked up a damned *sword*. I had *just* stopped carrying my own saber at that point, and I was cursing a blue *streak*. And -- rapidly -- bleeding like a stuck pig." 

And -- Dickie's eyes are shining. Just -- "How did you *beat* them?" 

"Well. Fire -- as they say -- *purifies*. The whole warehouse was going up like tinder, and I maybe -- maybe -- helped it along a little with my firebombs. Nobody was in danger of burning to death, but smoke can take you out like *that*. If, that is, you *don't* carry a rebreather in your sash. I am *not* above suffocating criminals. A few minutes of breathing smoke and it only took one good punch for each of the henchmen. *Bennett* passed out without me having to do a *thing*. After *that*? All I had to worry about was getting everyone out alive." 

Dickie grins. "That's *awesome*!" 

The Fox raises his eyebrows. "Even though I didn't quite make it to action hero?" 

That gets him a *giggle* -- 

"Oh, I love *that* sound." 

So do I. 

Don't think about Mom -- 

I'm not. I am only... he is everything right now. 

Yeah. God, yeah -- 

"-- sound too *young*, Fox!" 

"*All* the best people giggle sometimes, Dickie-bird. It's in the rules." 

"*What* rules?" 

The Fox bounces Dickie a little. "The ones I just made *up*, of course." 

Dickie grins for that, broad and bright and *wonderful* -- "Is it... is it Bruce who thinks up all the things for you to carry?" 

"Uh, huh. Brucie's *always* thinking about *something*. These days we *discuss* it some, but, well, he *made* the rebreathers *and* the filters that go *in* the rebreathers *and* the chemicals the filters are *treated* with... and on and on and *on*." 

"I don't think -- I mean, I don't think I'll ever invent *anything*, Fox. I mean, I'm good at fixing mechanical things but, I don't know, it's not like I could come up with something to do when my parents' carburetor broke." 

"And you think that means you're not qualified for this, Dickie?" 

"Well -- *yes*!" 

"We'll teach you *everything* we know -- and we didn't know any of it when we were your age. Hell, we didn't even know how to throw a punch -- and we sure as *hell* couldn't *fly* the way you can. No, Dickie -- we've learned the *hard* way that it takes all kinds to make this stuff work. I'll never be able to punch a two-ton alien through a cement wall like Kent can --" 

"Oh! How are you sleeping with *both* Superman and Lex Luthor?" 

The Fox laughs a little. "Brucie's gonna have to have that out with Lex *soon*. We're thinking of heading out to Metropolis tomorrow for a little while -- if you wanna come with?" 

Dickie blinks a *lot* -- "Um." 

"What's up, Dickie-bird?" 

"Okay, it's probably stupid, but it's *weird* that you can just get up and *go* places without needing to *work* for it!" 

The Fox smiles ruefully. "It's not weird, at all, Dickie. But I gotta say -- I count it as a victory *every* time I get Brucie to take serious advantage of all the cash he has on hand." 

Dickie bites his lip. 

The Fox squeezes Dickie's hands. "C'mon, ask. Or *tell* --" 

"I don't. What happens if I don't like Lex?" 

"Then you never have to put up with him. We're gonna *need* to see him sometimes, but *you* don't." 

Dickie shifts on his knees. "That's not -- everyone has to deal with people they don't like *sometimes*, Fox." 

The Fox opens his mouth -- 

"And -- that includes the ones they *don't* get to punch in the face." 

"Heh, okay, so I'm a little predictable. Put it this way, Dickie: we'd be happiest if you got along with Lex -- he's good for us and *to* us --" 

"*Both* of you?" 

"Uh, hunh. He's *used* to dealing with crazy people, and he *absolutely* gets off on it." 

"Um. Okay. Keep going?" 

The Fox nods. "It'd just be peaches and cream if all of us started getting along, but -- well, a lot of the time the world just doesn't work that way, Dickie. You don't have to like everyone I like, and I don't have to like everyone *you* like. We just have to respect each other's loved ones -- and stay away when we *can't*." 

Dickie nods thoughtfully again and squeezes the Fox with his thighs. "Can I speak to Bruce?" 

Bruce rises and smiles. "Always," he says, and brings Dick's hands to his mouth to nuzzle and kiss -- 

"Oh -- Fox said --" 

"I'm experimenting," and Bruce smiles from over Dick's scarred knuckles. 

Dick hums. "What are your *conclusions*?" 

"That I ought to be introducing myself... or kissing you somewhere entirely else." 

Dick parts his lips. "Bruce..." 

"Yes. But... tell me what you wish to know?" 

"When did you *decide* to hook up with Superman? I mean -- you weren't before."

"No. Our physical relationship has truly only just begun. But... I could tell, before, that there were things he wished to say to me that he felt he couldn't. He would... there were times when he would seem more hurt by the Fox's pointed teasing than angry, and when I began my relationship with Lex, the hurt was even more powerfully present. Today, he made his attraction quite clear... and I was forced to admit that I shared it." 

"But why *did* you tease him so much?" 

Bruce smiles wryly and strokes the hawkish jut of Dick's nose. "Because I caught him with underaged prostitutes." 

"Uh." 

"Yes." 

"*Seriously*?" 

"Yes." 

"*Superman*?" 

"Kal-El, with the boys and girls in question." 

Dick... stares at him. 

Bruce hums. "I, of course, believed myself entirely free of that perversion... until I met you." 

"I -- don't think you should call it a perversion." 

"No...?" 

"I think -- it makes our relationship sound bad, Bruce. It makes --" Dick shakes his head. "I know it *is* wrong, but it doesn't *feel* perverted, or bad, or anything else. It just feels. It just feels like I love you. Both of you." 

Bruce gasps and -- he's squeezing Dick's hands too hard. He -- "I'm sorry --" 

"No, I'm okay --" 

"Dick..." 

"You can't -- you can't tell me I'm too young. I just... I could *feel* you almost as soon as we *met*, Bruce, and you're -- you're really *good* --" 

"I love you --" 

"I *know*. And I can feel that, too," Dick says, and looks at Bruce from under his lashes. "I know you'll do anything for me --" 

"Yes --" 

"And I know I'll do anything for you." 

"Oh... Dick, you mustn't ever feel --" 

"*Obligated*. I *know*. I just -- I can put *up* with Lex for you. So long as he doesn't say anything -- you know. And -- wait." Dick frowns. "Why was he picking up prostitutes in *your* city?" 

"He told me, today, that he spent a great deal of time... observing me. That said, I believe it would be fair to say that Clark is... hmm... a citizen of the world...?" 

"Uh. You just found a fancy way to call *Superman* a *slut*." 

"I had a very expensive education, Dick. If I don't use it as much as possible, I feel rather guilty." 

Dick claps a hand over his mouth and giggles *while* snorting. 

"I vastly enjoy that sound." 

Dick's gaze... softens. 

Bruce reaches up to stroke his cheekbones, his ears -- 

Dick *shivers* -- and drops his hand. "Would you tell me how... how you want to make love to me?" 

God, *Dickie* -- 

Yes. "I want... I would want, more than anything else, to know your desires so that I could --" 

"What do you *fantasize* about?" 

Bruce takes a deep breath. "The Fox... allows me to hide my fantasies from myself." 

Dick blinks. "I -- *how*?" 

"I have... rather more *compartments* in my mind than most people do. I'll teach you --" 

Dick covers Bruce's mouth with his hand, so small, so *rough* -- 

Bruce closes his eyes and kisses Dick's fingertips -- 

"I know -- I know you want to do *that* more --" 

"Yes. I would... lick the salt from your fingers, and bite them gently --" 

"Or -- not gently?" 

Bruce opens his eyes and narrows them. "Pain, Dick?" 

Dick parts his lips -- and drags his fingers over Bruce's lips. "It's just. It's just that I get so *hard*." 

"At your age --" 

"Don't -- don't say that." 

Bruce breathes deep. "I will never lie to you --" 

"I *know*. I know. And -- I know part of how horny I get is my age. I really do know that, because my *Dad* told me all about it when I was *nine*, okay?" 

"I will never try to take his place --" 

"I know that, too. And I want -- tell me a fantasy? And I can. I can think about it when I jerk off." 

Bruce grunts -- 

"Oh. Oh. That turns you on? Thinking about me -- touching myself?" 

"Very. Very much. When you... opened your pants..." 

Dick blushes and shifts -- and he is much, much harder than he had been. "I didn't know you then." 

"Some. Some would say you hardly know me now --" 

"Would you?" 

Bruce swallows. "No, I would not. You know... the heart of me." 

"I really." Dick bites his lip and rubs Bruce's chest. "The heart of you makes me feel... really warm." 

"I would live in you --" 

"Ditto. You make. You make a lot of bad things -- touch me?" 

Bruce cups Dick's thighs. "Like this?" 

Dick shifts -- 

Bruce tightens his grip *reflexively* -- 

And Dick's moan is loud and -- lasting. 

"Perhaps. Perhaps you should... leave me now." 

"You don't want me to go *anywhere*." 

Confidence -- 

*Bravery*, Brucie -- 

And wisdom. Such -- "No, I do not." 

"You want me -- please tell me more? And -- maybe I can jerk off right here -- *oh* --" 

Bruce *stops* squeezing Dick's thighs -- 

"It's *okay* -- I mean. Guys jerk off together all the time." 

"Have you... done that?"

Dick blushes and bites his lip. 

"You haven't." 

"Mostly -- all the other kids at Haly's were *girls*. Or, you know. Really young." And Dick covers Bruce's hands with his own -- and urges him to squeeze. 

"Dick --" 

"It doesn't hurt. It feels -- really hot, actually. It makes me think of you... spreading my legs." 

Bruce feels himself thickening *helplessly* -- Fox -- 

Can't -- I can't -- he wants to jerk *off* with us -- 

Yes. He. He is so beautiful -- 

"Bruce..." 

Bruce tightens his grip -- 

And Dick's smile is wide and *wild* -- "Tell me *more*. Tell me what you *want*." 

"I want... to taste you --" 

"My dick?" 

Bruce strokes Dick's thighs -- 

Dick moans again. "*Tell* me, Bruce. I want to *picture* it, and -- and feel it." 

"Your scent is..." Bruce touches his tongue to his upper lip -- 

Dick begins to lean *in* -- and stops. And smiles once more. "It's just talking. And -- a *little* touching." 

"Dick." 

"It's *okay*, Bruce --" 

"Is it truly... is it truly so little to you?" 

Dick rears back and shakes his head. "No! It's -- it's *important*, Bruce! You have to believe me --" 

"I *do*," Bruce says, and strokes Dick's thighs more firmly, more *quickly*. "But I do not -- I don't understand." 

Dick licks his lips. "Not -- talking? About fantasies? Didn't you *do* that with Harvey?" 

Bruce blinks. "Not until we had already begun making love, Dick --" 

"Oh! Oh, but -- " Dick rubs Bruce's chest and shakes his head. "Annie says you *have* to be able to talk about this stuff with your lovers, and Mom said so, too. In a different *way*, but, um. Still? And -- and I'll tell you what *I* want --" 

"*Please* --" 

Dick moans. "Oh, *Bruce*, I -- I jerked off thinking about you *fucking* me. Really just -- I can *tell* how big you are --" 

"Dick --" 

"How thick and -- and *long* --" 

"I don't -- I mustn't ever *hurt* you --" 

Dick *scratches* Bruce's chest -- 

Bruce *grunts* and arches -- 

"Oh, *Bruce*, I -- I won't do that again." 

Bruce pants and -- nods. 

"You're just so -- so *big*, and so *hot*, and you could." Dick licks his lips. "You could do it *slow* --" 

"Is that. Is that what you want?" 

Dick licks his lips again -- and crawls back until he's kneeling over Bruce's groin. Not -- 

Not *touching* -- 

"Bruce..." 

"Yes."

Dick closes his eyes and tilts his head back -- and then cups himself through his boxer shorts. 

"*Dick* --" 

"Just -- I have to *feel* --" 

"Will you. Will you begin --" 

Dick makes a *sharp* noise, high and *sweet* -- and then he stands on the bed and pushes his boxer shorts down and off. And takes off his t-shirt. And -- 

Stands there, naked and flushed and *erect* -- 

Oh, *God*, Bruce -- 

Please. Please, Fox -- 

I'm trying, I -- we're not reaching out -- 

Yes. That -- 

I can't look *away* -- 

Never. We will never look away. "Dick. You are --" 

"Beautiful?" 

"Exquisite." 

Dick smiles and strokes his own chest. "Take your underwear off? I wanna see you naked." 

It's -- we're not *reaching* -- 

And. He'll need to be comfortable with. 

Yeah, that's weak. 

Bruce laughs softly and arches to remove his boxer-briefs -- 

And then gives himself the pleasure of Dick's gaze. Dick's *stare*. Dick -- 

He's licking his lips *again* -- 

He... Harvey used to gaze at me like this -- 

"Dick..." 

Dick *bites* his lip -- and drops gracefully to his knees once more. Their genitals are not touching, but -- 

It's a *real* near thing -- 

Yes -- 

"You're really. Um. You're hot, Bruce. Just -- in case you hadn't figured that out," and Dick blushes and laughs. 

"I'm... I'm very glad you think so --" 

"I want. I want to know what you taste like." 

"I would like the same --" 

"I know. You said," and Dick grins at him, gazing from under his long lashes -- "What else?" 

"I want to see you masturbate yourself --" 

"How? Fast? Slow?" 

Bruce takes a shuddering breath. "Slow. At -- at first. I'd want to see every moment of your pleasure --" 

"And. Do you want to see me fuck myself?" 

Bruce hears a strange sound -- 

You're clawing at the sheets. 

Oh -- 

Also -- you're resting on your elbows. 

Oh... my. 

And Dickie -- 

Is staring at my hands. "Dick. I don't think. I don't think I can watch you taking yourself."

Dick frowns. "But you *want* it --" 

"Badly. But I would... lose control." 

Dick *pants* -- "I want you to --" 

"Dick, no --" 

"I want you to *need* me --" 

"I *do* --" 

"Oh, Bruce, I want you to just -- just --" Dick groans and shakes his head before taking himself in hand. He strokes *quickly* -- 

Brucie, tell him -- 

"Please, Dick. Please slow down." 

Dick's cry is *sharp* -- but he slows down immediately, squeezing himself firmly -- 

"Beautiful. Perfect... perfect boy..." 

"What are you -- *thinking*?" 

"That I desire you as. As no other --" 

Dick moans -- 

"I want to taste you *everywhere* --" 

Another sharp cry and Dick nods and begins to stroke faster again -- 

"*Please* --" 

"Oh, *Bruce*, I'm so -- I'm so *hard* --" 

"Do you *ache*." 

Dick nods *frantically*, mouth open and eyes wide and increasingly *dazed* -- 

"Every moment -- your scent is *rising* --" 

"You like it, you *like* it --" 

"Yes. It makes me. I am *salivating*." 

Dick shudders and moans, shaking his head -- 

"What. What are you *denying*?" 

"No, it's -- it feels so good, but I want *more* --" 

"*Tell* me --" 

"*Touch* me, Bruce! Touch me and -- and hold me *down* --" 

Bruce grips himself -- 

"*Oh*, you're -- so *fast* --" 

"I -- it's something which can be trained --" 

"I don't care I don't care -- let me *see*!" 

Bruce sits up -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

Bruce leans in to kiss Dick's temple, but he can't stop himself from licking there, instead -- 

His salt. His *tang* -- 

Dick gasps and turns to kiss Bruce's cheek, to -- 

He's trying to reach Bruce's mouth, and -- 

Fox, *please* -- 

But the Fox only groans -- and, when Bruce looks, the Fox is masturbating himself viciously hard, viciously *fast* -- 

Oh, Fox... 

I won't. I won't come until you do but I *need* it --

"Please, Bruce, please do *something* to me --" 

Bruce lets go of his penis and cups Dick's face -- 

"I can *smell* -- *mm* --" 

The kiss is too hard, too fast -- 

The kiss -- 

Dick tastes of mint and the mild detergent in Quest toothpaste, and it isn't what Bruce wants -- 

Need, it's *need*, it's always fucking *need* -- 

And so Bruce licks his way out of Dick's mouth and over his cheek to his ear, where there are bitter oils and more *salt* -- 

"Bruce -- *Bruce* --" 

No, his throat, and Dick is so small, light enough to *lift* -- 

"Oh, *God* -- " 

The taste here is stronger, new sweat mingled with old -- 

His skin is so soft, so --

So clear and -- 

He can feel Dick *working* himself --

And Bruce doesn't know whether the bite comes before the groan, whether the suck comes before the *shudder* -- but there's a lean, strong arm wrapped around the back of his head -- 

And Dick is whimpering and *moaning* -- 

Don't *mark* him! Not -- not *there* -- 

Bruce tears himself *back* -- 

"Oh, *no*, Bruce, *please*!" 

"Yes. *Please*," and they rise together, *move* together until Dick is on his back and arching -- 

Tossing his *head* -- 

And *shouting* for the feel of them knocking his hand aside and taking him *in* -- 

Groaning and taking him *in* -- 

"Bruce! *Bruce*!" 

They -- Dick would never call them 'darlings,' of course -- 

"*Ohn* -- oh, you're sucking *me*!" 

They nod and cup Dick's lean and lovely hips -- 

They slap at him with their tongue -- 

They suck *hard*, wanting come, wanting sweetness, wanting *more* -- 

And getting all of the above when Dick grips and claws at their hair, when he begins to cry out and thrust and cry out more -- 

They want *louder* -- 

They want every moment to taste like this, this *mildly* gamy *perfection* -- 

They can taste his *youth* -- 

"*Ah* -- *ah* -- oh, *God* -- *oh* --" And that cry goes on and *on* -- 

But Dick's body jack-knifes then -- 

Dick shudders and jerks like he's being fucking *electrocuted* -- 

And he spills on their tongue, so -- 

So warm and -- 

So hot and *bright*, and the only thing they can do is swallow and moan, beg with their groans for more and more than *that* -- 

Dick sobs and begins to *beat* at them -- 

Too hard. They're still sucking too *hard* -- 

They want *more* -- 

"*Please*!" 

They yank themselves back and growl, panting and *needing* -- but can he see? 

The beautiful boy sees everything *about* them, but this? 

They can only *stare*, and shudder for the ache running through them, for the need to -- 

To clutch and grip and bite and *fuck* -- 

And Dick is panting as he stares at them, frowning -- 

"*Please*," they say, and they sound like an *animal* -- 

Dick *starts* for it -- and then blinks. "You -- you're not Bruce *or* Fox." 

They shake their head -- 

"You're... both?" 

"Yes. We. Please." 

"Oh -- but what do I *call* you?" 

"We -- have no name --" 

And then Dick's body is pressed to their own, Dick's arms are wrapped around their neck -- 

"Dick --" 

"Oh, it's okay, it's okay, I promise -- I'm not *scared* --" 

They clutch him then, and -- they *hold* him, and move him -- "Your skin -- I *need* --" 

"Oh -- God, you're so *hairy* --" 

"We. Do you *like* --" 

Dick giggles then and kisses him, small mouth soft and hard at once, wet and *sharp* -- 

They *take* Dick's mouth, shoving their tongue deep and tasting, *fucking* until the taste of toothpaste is fading under saliva and acid and Dick is moaning for them -- 

Clawing at their *shoulders* -- 

And working his hips against their abdomen. This -- 

This is right. This is *pleasure*. They pull back and breathe, staring into Dick's wide eyes -- 

His beautiful eyes -- 

"We love you. We love you more --" They shake their head and kiss him again, and again -- 

They lick his mouth and suck his soft lips -- 

They pull back and push two fingers into his mouth, stroking and *learning* the surfaces of his teeth -- 

Dick whimpers and *bites* -- 

"Yes. Yes, *harder* --" 

Dick *growls* and bites, and they can feel themselves leaking steadily, feel themselves slick and *ready* -- no. 

Not yet. They pull their fingers from Dick's mouth and kiss him again, *suck* again, because Dick's lips are swelling now -- 

So *beautiful*, and nothing has ever -- 

Nothing has ever *touched* having the right to make love as this, having the ability to *give*. They lay him down again and lift his arms, licking the hollows there -- 

The insides of his elbows -- 

They tug at his sparse underarm hair with their teeth -- 

"Oh -- B-- I need something to *call* you!" 

They lick for the powdery taste of antiperspirant -- buried *quickly* under sweat -- 

"And that *tickles* --" 

"Anything, Dick. Call us anything, at all," and they dart in to bite his nipple, suck it to a hard, springy *peak* -- 

"Oh -- *ohn* -- I don't want to say the *wrong* thing -- oh, *God* --" 

Another bite, then, and another, and a moment to claw at Dick's sleek and well-muscled abdomen -- 

"Bruce -- *fuck* --" 

They lick their way up between his small pecs -- 

They turn his head and *stab* at his suprasternal notch until he gurgles and *kicks* -- 

"So -- I'm so *hard* again --" 

"Yes. We." They rest a hand on Dick's chest and hold him down, hold him *still* -- 

"Please! Please tell me your *name*!" 

They shake their head and know they look pleading. They *are* pleading. "No one -- you could use pet names. Epithets. Anything you wish --" 

Dick moans and struggles -- 

"*No* --" 

Dick gasps and *stares* and for a moment they are only *confused*, but -- 

"Oh, no. We --" They pull back and shudder -- 

They have no *control* like this -- 

Break. They have to -- they -- 

Someone groans as he covers his face with his hands, and someone shudders again --

*Again* -- 

"Oh, please, it's okay, it's okay --" 

And Dick's arms are around him, holding him so *tightly* -- 

Who -- 

I. I. I don't *know* -- 

*Speak* more!

*Fuck* -- okay, you're Bruce. I'd say *talk*. And I -- 

I'm not -- this isn't -- 

We can do this. We can -- 

Dick is -- worrying. 

We have to *breathe* before we can do anything ---

No, and Bruce looks up and strokes Dick's hair before lifting him onto his lap. 

"*Oh* -- are you --" 

*Then* he breathes, and the scent of pleasure is much stronger than the scent of fear --

"Bruce?" 

"Yes," and Bruce kisses his temple -- 

Kisses his way across his forehead to his *other* temple -- 

"Mm, I -- what *happened*? Are you okay?" 

"We were... we merged. I'm so sorry we couldn't tell you anything substantive --" 

"It's *okay*. I mean -- I'm guessing that doesn't happen all the time?" 

"Only, to date, in moments of deepest passion. Deepest need. My love, when we held you down --" 

Dick pulls back and cups Bruce's face. "*Listen* to me. It's *okay*. I just needed to *move* right then --" 

"I -- we couldn't let you. That -- that is unacceptable." 

"So... um." Dick frowns. "Are you gonna try to... I don't know... *bury* yourself or something now?" 

"I must control myself --" 

"*No* --" 

"*Dick* --" 

"No, no, *no*! That was so *good*, Bruce, so --" Dick shakes his head. "It's okay if you only have to be *either* Bruce or the Fox, but you can't just try to be *good* or -- whatever! You have to -- you have to *give* me this!" 

Bruce knows he looks *pained*, but -- 

"Oh. And we can --" Dick shifts away enough to reach down between them, enough to grip Bruce's penis with both hands -- "Oh, so *warm*!" 

Bruce opens his mouth, but nothing comes out but a desperate, *hungry* groan -- 

"Oh -- yes?" And Dick starts to stroke him with both hands -- 

Bruce pants. "Your hands. Your -- your wonderful hands --" 

"Do you like..." And Dick's expression changes to one of deep concentration -- 

"Tell me -- or. Or show me --" 

Dick nods and bites his lip -- and begins to stroke Bruce's penis in two directions at once -- 

"*Dick* --" 

A giggle and a *grin* -- "I'm not *big* enough to really make this work for myself, but I always thought it would feel *fantastic*." 

"It. It *does* --" 

"Lose control again, Bruce." 

"Dick, *please* --" 

"I promise -- I promise you can do *anything* to me --" 

"For you. We must -- I must *pleasure* you --" 

"You *did*. And -- you'll do it again...?" 

"*Yes* --" 

"*Good*. Because I think I was only capable of getting soft for about thirty freaking *seconds*, and --" 

The Fox growls and rises *as* he tosses Dickie gently onto his belly -- 

"*Fuck*!" 

"*Exactly*," the Fox says and spreads Dickie's ass -- 

"Oh, *yeah* --" 

"You gave Bruce a chance to apologize." 

"You're sorry, too! I get it!" 

"I would've *explained* why I was holding you down, Dickie. I would've --" The Fox growls again and licks a long stripe up Dickie's crack -- 

"*Eep* --" 

"You taste so good to me, Dickie-bird..." 

"*There*?" 

"*Everywhere*," and the Fox spreads Dickie *wider* -- 

"Oh, *God* --" 

Drags his *teeth* -- and Dickie *bucks*. "Good boy. Good -- mm. Gotta hold you down sometimes, Dickie." 

"Okay! Anything --!" 

"Gotta -- gotta make you *feel* me." 

"I *do*, Fox!" 

"Feel this, too," and the Fox shoves his tongue in *deep* -- 

Dickie cries out and clenches for it, working his hips *immediately* -- 

Such a good *boy* -- 

The perfect boy -- 

In *every* fucking way, Brucie -- 

*Take* him -- 

*Yeah* -- and the Fox is slurring his growls now, gripping Dickie's hips and shoving in and *in* -- 

Licking out and getting him wet, getting him *slick* -- 

"*Fox*!" 

"Make all the noise you *want*," and he licks his way back in, he *squeezes* Dickie's hips -- 

He holds him *still* -- 

And Dickie starts shuddering *immediately*, spreading his legs wide and kicking the bed -- 

"Ohn -- *ohn* -- *please*!" 

And "yes" just *feels* better shoved right up Dickie's hole, *tastes* better, like musk and oil and the faint bitterness of a boy who *knows* how to get clean -- 

"Oh, God, *Fox* --" 

"I love you, I *love* you --" And he's drooling for it, shoving in and wiggling his tongue *around* -- 

And he knows Kent would do this in a heartbeat, knows Kent is probably *watching* this from a mile or two up in the air -- 

Or maybe just from the damned *roof* -- 

Let him watch, Fox --

Yeah -- 

Let him see -- let him see this *beauty* -- 

*Your* turn. 

*Brother* -- and Bruce rises to stroke Dick's hips and sides, to *lift* Dick onto his knees -- 

"*Please* --" 

"Beautiful boy. Beloved boy --" 

"Oh, Bruce, Bruce, *fuck* me --" 

"I need this first, my love," and Bruce grips Dick's penis -- 

Dick *howls* -- 

"Oh, you're *close*," and Bruce can't keep himself from rumbling his pleasure. "*Come*," and he begins to stroke *as* he kisses Dick's anus, as he makes love to it with every passion he can bring to bear -- 

As he grips Dick's hip with his free hand just enough to make his motions *steady* -- 

And Dick cries out for him, wild and arrhythmic, high and *sweet* -- 

Such beauty as this -- 

Such a *moment* as this, and Bruce doesn't *know* if he wants Dick to be able to speak -- 

The sounds are so *visceral* -- 

*Beautiful* boy, and Bruce promises to love, *always* to love, and to free Dick from himself if ever there is a need -- 

To *try* to free Dick from himself, if only to prove his love, his -- 

Shouldn't love always be generous? Shouldn't it always *warm*? 

Yeah, but this -- 

We will keep him close to us only by allowing him every possible *safe* freedom, Fox -- 

No, yeah, Dickie's gotta *fly* -- 

*Always*. And it's necessary to lift Dick, to move him closer to the right side of the bed -- and the bedside table. It takes some fumbling -- he has never tried acquiring lubricant *while* performing analingus before -- but it's worth it -- 

And wonderful to pull back and immediately replace his tongue with two fingers -- 

To hear Dick *scream* -- 

And then Dick is wild in his hands, working himself between Bruce's fingers and his fist -- 

Shouting and beating at the bed -- 

And screaming once more when Bruce crooks his fingers, screaming as he ejaculates all over Bruce's pillow -- 

And Bruce feels himself flex, feels his mind stutter and *slip* -- 

The beauty -- 

The tight, welcoming *heat* -- 

You're close to the edge, Brucie. 

And you? 

Closer, and the Fox is a hot, sharp smile and the scent of musk and sweat -- 

The Fox is an *urge* -- 

But so is Bruce, himself. He moves Dick away from the wet spot and lays him on his abdomen once again, keeping his fingers as still inside him as possible -- 

"So -- so *strong* --" 

"For you, Dick." 

"Mm, I. Are you -- will you fuck me?" 

"If." Bruce swallows. "If you have stretched yourself enough. I will not tear you." 

Dick wriggles and arches his rear up -- "You can open me *up*, Bruce." 

"And I will. But -- perhaps not entirely *tonight*." 

Dick's moan is mournful and he scrubs his face against the sheets. "I don't wanna *wait*, Bruce!" 

"It won't be --" Bruce takes a breath -- and *tastes* Dick on the air, tastes *both* of them and the love they're *making* -- 

Even with the *window* open the scent is -- 

The *feel* -- "No matter what, Dick, it won't be *long*." 

Dick giggles -- "I think it's *very* long, Bruce."

"Hm." 

"Long and ooh -- oh, yes --" 

Bruce breathes deeply and strokes Dick's back with his free hand, pushes in *deep* -- "Tell me. Tell me about the toys you've used." 

"Just -- um. Vonnie's --" 

"And -- you used a condom every time --" 

"*Yes*, Bruce -- *oh* -- oh -- maybe -- um." 

Bruce forces himself to pause -- 

"No, don't --" 

"Tell me, Dick --" 

"Don't -- I. I'll need to come too fast if you keep hitting my -- um. Prostate." 

Want him to, want him -- 

Yes. His pleasure is so *beautiful* -- 

God, fuck -- yeah. But he doesn't want it. 

Bruce shudders. "You'd prefer... to simply be stretched?" 

"I want you *in* me, Bruce!" 

God -- 

Yes. "As you say," and Bruce steadies Dick's hip unnecessarily and begins to thrust again -- 

"Oh --" 

He pushes as deep as he *can*, spreading his fingers -- 

"*Mm* -- oh, Bruce, keep *talking* --" 

"Tell me -- how *big* was the toy --" 

"Um. Um. About seven inches? Maybe -- maybe a little more -- it always turned me on just *thinking* about it, Bruce --" 

"And." Bruce licks his lips and resists the urge to crook his fingers once more -- 

"Bruce?" 

"Now you're imagining my penis."

"*Yes*! Your -- you're so *big* --" 

"It -- did the toy ever hurt you?" 

"At *first*, yeah, but then -- *mm* --- *mm* -- oh, *faster* --" 

He doesn't want to *know* the parts of himself which needed to speed his fingers just then, and thrust *harder* -- 

You have to. *We* have to -- 

Yes. Yes, of course -- 

You -- we *want* him to hurt a little. 

Because. Because of his desires?

The Fox shudders and squeezes himself hard, swipes away pre-ejaculate and shoves it in his *mouth*, and -- 

I see. Because of our own, as well. 

The Fox nods *sadly* -- 

But Dick is moaning, straining against Bruce's hold on his hip -- 

"Tell me more about the pain, Dick." 

"Uh. Um -- it -- it was *too* big at first --" 

"What. What did you do?" 

Dick -- tries to wriggle -- 

Bruce loosens his grip -- and Dick immediately starts driving himself back on Bruce's fingers faster. *Harder*. "*Dick* --" 

"Can't -- *this* is what I did --" 

"Dangerous --" 

"*Good*. I -- you *know* it's good!" 

And suddenly Bruce is sixteen and on his hands and knees -- 

Sixteen and aching, erect and *aching* -- 

Shaking like -- like a *leaf* -- 

Because Harvey is behind him, cursing every time he can't control himself -- and those times are often. Harvey is aroused and hungry and pushing in as slowly as he can -- 

("Bruce -- big guy --" 

"*Please* --" 

"Ohn -- oh, you're too *tight*.") 

And he had sobbed then, knowing Harvey was right, knowing that every moment without the feel of Harvey inside him would be *torture* -- 

Hunger and *privation* -- 

("Fuck -- I -- *brother*--")

Because clenching around him was the best thing, the *only* thing -- 

("You -- you have to let me *go*, brother --"

"*No*!" 

"Fuck -- oh, fuck, you *want* me --" 

"*Always*, brother --")

At the time, he'd thought nothing could possibly be better, nothing more *perfect* than the feel of Harvey working his way deeper and deeper still. The pain had seemed only a counterpoint, a function of sexuality *designed* to make Bruce make the sounds that aroused and frightened Harvey in equal measure -- 

And that time -- the *first* time -- Harvey had been too lost to his own pleasure to apologize while he was taking Bruce, too *desperate* --

He needed you too *much*, Brucie -- 

And I him. 

Yeah. Look. 

Here, now, Dick is tossing his head and humming, clawing at the sheets and *moaning*. 

He *is* tight -- but he could be tighter. His desire is *palpable* -- 

"Dick..." 

"Mm? Please don't *stop* --" 

"Begging. You. Dick --" 

"Oh, you --" Dick *giggles* -- 

Croons -- 

"You have to tell me *everything* that turns you on, Bruce --" 

"*You*." 

"But -- me *begging* is even better. Right?" 

Bruce grunts and crooks his fingers helplessly -- 

Dick cries out -- "Bruce! Please, no!" 

Bruce moans and *clutches* Dick, strokes helplessly -- 

"Not -- don't make me *come*, yet --" 

"No. No, I. It's only --" Bruce shakes his head and rubs between Dick's shoulder blades -- 

Dick is shuddering and holding himself *tensed* -- against pleasure. Against *pleasure* -- 

"You must allow me to give you an orgasm --" 

"I've had *two* already. It's *your* turn." 

"Dick --" 

"Please*, Bruce! Please please please!" 

"*Dick* --" 

"*Fuck* me, open me -- I *like* it when it hurts a little --"

And Bruce is groaning and thrusting again -- 

No, wait, Brucie. We can -- 

Oh. Oh, yes -- 

The Fox rises, feeling himself aching that much more than he was inside, feeling himself sweating and *needing* -- "*Wait* for it, Dickie." 

"*Fox*!" 

"He can't *give* you pain like I can, Dickie-bird. He can't --" The Fox growls and pulls out -- 

"*Hnh* --" 

The Fox dumps slick on his hand and works it around and around -- 

Watches Dickie's hole *flex* -- 

"Do you have any *idea* how much I want your pretty little ass?" 

"Nuh -- oh, *Fox* --" 

"And Bruce does, too. Bruce -- Bruce could finger you all *day*. Until you begged just *right*, that is." 

"What -- *ohn* --" 

"That's right, Dickie. *Three* now," and the Fox starts to push *and* twist --

"Fox -- *ahn* --" 

"If you can take this..." 

"I want to, I *want* to --" 

"Does it hurt yet?" 

Dickie tosses his *head*, hair mussed and beautiful -- 

"*Answer* --" 

"Stretching me *open*, you -- *Fox*, don't *stop* --" 

The Fox purrs a little. "That's good. That's -- mm. *Take* what you want, Dickie," and the Fox pushes *harder* -- 

And Dickie tries to drive himself *back* -- 

"No, Dickie. It's *my* turn to give it to you. Hold *still*." 

Dickie shouts and nods, spreading himself *wider* -- 

And the Fox can't keep himself from giving that tight little sac a *hard* squeeze -- 

"*Please*!" 

"*Good* boy. Almost there," and he pushes deeper, wiggling his fingers just a little -- 

"Unh -- *unh* --" 

"You should know, Dickie..." 

"Please, oh --" 

"Even if I *can't* fuck your little ass tonight? I *will* fuck your mouth." 

"Oh, *God*, Fox, I -- *anything* --" 

"*Everything*, Dickie. Every. Little. *Thing*," and the Fox is in with all three, nice and *deep* -- 

"Big -- so big --" 

"And just a bit bigger than my dick. Enough bigger that if I can fuck you *this* way --" 

Dickie cries out and starts trying to work himself again -- 

"*No*." 

Dickie wails and beats at the bed again -- 

"Shh, shh. This is *our* show, Dickie-bird. You know that, right?" 

"Muh -- " And Dick drops down onto his elbows, scrubbing his face against the sheets -- 

Leaving his ass right up in the *air* -- 

Oh. Fox... 

Yeah, I see it. I -- and the Fox traces a small circle around the deep brown little beauty mark on Dickie's right cheek -- "You've got a beauty mark right here, Dickie..." 

Dickie moans and clenches -- 

Cries out and clenches *harder* -- 

Fox, *now* -- 

*Yeah*. The Fox starts rocking his fingers in and out just a *little*, stretching Dickie more -- 

And *more* -- 

"Kent told us about the mark, Dickie..." 

The sound Dickie makes is shocked and *confused* -- 

And the Fox growls a laugh. "Yeah. He promised me he wouldn't try to get between us... and then he pointed out that he hadn't said word *one* about not checking you out." 

"Su-- nuh -- oh, *Fox*!" 

"That much for just this little wiggle?" The Fox does it again -- 

Dickie *sobs* -- "Please -- please let me *move* --" 

"Not yet, Dickie -- but almost."

Dickie nods *frantically* -- 

"You are... mm. *Such* a good boy. You make me wanna tie you up and tie you *down*." 

"You *can* --" 

"You make me wanna spank your ass *red*." 

"*Nnh* --!" 

"You make me wanna just... lick you and kiss you and *bite* you. All *over* --" 

"Please, Fox, *please*!" 

"Not. *Yet*," and the Fox starts lengthening his thrusts, starts rocking *harder* -- 

And Dickie grunts for it, high and sharp for every thrust -- 

"You take it so *sweet*, Dickie..." 

"Want you, *want* you --"

"You'll have me. Every -- every damned *day* --" 

Dickie moans and shudders all over, tries to spread even *wider* -- 

"No, Dickie, keep your *balance*." 

Another frantic nod and Dickie's up again -- 

Trying to *work* again -- 

"Almost *there*, Dickie." 

A *whimper* -- 

He is... so *eager*... 

Yeah. He's -- just like us. 

No, not -- 

For *this*, Brucie. For this -- this fan-fucking-tastic *moment* -- 

And Bruce moans for that, arches up on the bed and *teases* himself -- 

And that is an *excellent* idea. "Don't move now, Dickie," and the Fox releases Dickie's hip and starts rubbing the head of Dickie's *eager* little dickie... 

"*Oh*!" 

And Dickie flexes open *immediately*, seems almost ready to *swallow* the Fox's hand -- 

And the images for that are enough to make him shudder, make him *sweat* -- 

He can smell himself so *strongly*, and he needs -- 

The Fox leans in and licks the back of Dickie's neck, pants there and tries to *taste* -- 

"Fox -- Fox, I'm *close* --" 

The Fox *grunts* -- "Can you hold on?" 

"I -- I don't *know* --" 

The Fox kisses Dickie's throat. "It's okay, Dickie-bird. We'll play this game another *time*," he says, and stops playing with Dickie's dick. "Just this. Just your sweet little ass." 

"Please, please let me *move*!" 

And -- he should open Dickie up a little more first. 

He should make sure Dickie will stay *this* open -- 

Fox. Don't wait.

No, I -- no. "*Do* it, Dickie --" 

"Oh, *yes*! Thank you, *thank* you," and every word is emphasized with a rocking grind, a *snapping* grind -- 

Dickie is fucking himself on the Fox's *hand* -- 

Dickie is -- is -- 

"Oh, Dickie... you got me so *hard*..." 

"Yes -- *yes* --" 

"Gonna do you, Dickie..." 

"*Please*!" 

"Don't you stop. Don't --" The Fox growls. "Almost. Fucking. *There*." 

And Dickie cries out for that, or maybe for the way it feels to *ream* himself. The Fox has been leaking for so long he feels thirsty, *drained*, fucking *starved* -- 

"Wanna lick you *up*, wanna -- come *on*, Dickie --" 

"Tell me! Tell me what to *do*!" 

The Fox growls *again* -- "More. *Faster*." 

Dickie whimpers and does it, head hanging and balls *swinging*. He's gonna feel those against his own. 

He's gonna *slap* those with his own -- "It'll be fast, Dickie. Fast and *hard*." 

*Gurgling* cry -- and Dickie takes it like an order, like an order to *perform*. 

"Good boy. *Best* boy --" 

"Your -- *your* boy!" 

And the Fox can't even -- 

He doesn't know what that sound *was*. All he knows is that he's pulling out -- 

"Oh, no -- oh, *no* --" 

"*Right* now, Dickie-bird --" 

And Dickie gasps and tries to spread wider again, tries -- 

"Stay right there. Reach -- reach back and spread -- " And then the Fox is grunting, because Dickie is using *both* hands -- 

Dickie is down on his *face* -- 

We must enter him slowly, Fox -- 

Yeah. Yeah, I -- no, wait, take *over* -- 

Bruce rises and leans in to kiss Dick's beauty mark -- 

"*Oh* --" 

"A moment's need. A moment's -- " Bruce hears himself rumbling with hunger -- 

He *stabs* in with his tongue -- 

Again and *again* -- 

"Bruce, no, Bruce, *please* --" 

"My *love* -- you are, of course, correct," and Bruce compromises with himself by only making love to Dick's anus for another minute -- 

Another few *seconds* -- 

*Bruce*, he's -- 

Sobbing. He -- Bruce pulls back and brushes Dick's left hand aside. "Brace yourself." 

Another sob -- 

Another -- 

Dick is *shaking* -- 

"Dick, are you sure --" 

And then Dick simply *is* up on his hand, braced and still and *tense* -- 

"Breathe, my love, my sweet boy..." 

"Nuh -- *Bruce* --" 

"I will..." Bruce strokes and squeezes Dick's buttocks. "I will be able to enter you *faster* that way." 

"*Ohn* --" And Dick nods and struggles to breathe deeply, struggles and *strives* -- 

He flexes *open* -- 

*Now*, Bruce -- 

"Yes. Oh..." And Bruce guides himself -- 

Pushes -- 

Bruce *grunts* for the feel of Dickie's anus, for the way it seems almost *furled* with tension and swelling --"Dick..." 

"Oh -- *oh* --" 

"Dick, I *need* you --" 

"I'm yours, I'm all *yours* --" 

Bruce groans and lets go of himself, cupping Dick's hips instead and pushing steadily, *heavily* -- 

Dick *whimpers* -- 

"Dick --" 

"Don't *stop* --" 

"I won't. I -- not now," Bruce says, blushing and flashing on the moment from outside himself. From -- 

He will be thirty this year; Dick will be fourteen *next* year. 

He is two hundred and sixty pounds; Dick is no more than one hundred and fifteen. 

He is -- 

He is twice Dick's *age* -- 

And Dickie loves it, brother. 

Fox -- 

*Listen*. And the Fox hauls him forward within himself almost brutally -- 

The Fox *forces* him -- and forces him to hear Dickie's long, almost *belling* moans -- 

Animal and so *sweet*, so -- 

"Dick, *speak* --" 

And Dick growls, whines so *high* -- 

"*Please* --" 

"Don't -- oh, Bruce, *don't*, you're almost *in* --" 

"Yes. Yes, you can feel --" 

"Your *hair* --" 

Bruce groans and *clutches* Dick again -- 

His hands are *shaking* -- 

Easy, keep it steady, brother -- 

Yes. Yes. But you must *feel* -- 

One of us -- one of us has to have fucking *control* -- 

I -- 

But Dick clenches then, clenches and *shouts* -- 

"*Dick* --" 

"You're in me, you're *in* me --" 

"*Yes* --" 

"Oh -- a little -- a little deeper?" 

There is no thought, there is no -- no *pause*. Only the feel of his hands tightening even more on Dick's hips as he *yanks* -- 

And Dick *screams* -- 

"My *love* --" 

"Bruce -- Bruce -- do it, fuck me, *do* me like you said, like the *Fox* said --" 

"Do you want --" 

"*Both* of you!" 

"We can't -- we don't have the control --" 

Dick sobs and does his best to rock on Bruce's penis even as he clenches uncontrollably, *randomly*. 

Bruce grunts for every one -- and begins to thrust.

The Fox is *cursing* within him -- 

"You are -- so *tight*." 

"For *you*, for -- oh, Bruce, it's so *good* --" 

"Does it hurt. Are you. Are you in *pain* --" 

"*Yes*, and I won't -- I'll *come* --" 

"*Hard*." 

"*Yes*, Bruce! I *promise*!" 

Bruce groans and gives in, releasing himself the way, perhaps, a dog is let off the leash. Immediately, it feels as though he can breathe deeper -- 

Breathe *Dick* in deeper -- 

Breathe *sex* -- no, love, this is *love*, and it's everything he can give -- 

No, not everything, not *yet* -- but the sounds Dick is making are heavy things, loud and -- 

Sweet, Brucie, so -- 

He's so *young* -- 

He's so *tight*, Brucie -- 

I. I. "Dick, I *love* you --" 

And Dick nods and *struggles* -- 

Bruce growls *helplessly* -- 

"More! Please, *more*!" 

Bruce *pants* then, and his vision seems darkened, reddened and -- 

The entire *world* seems as flushed and tender as the boy, the beautiful *boy* -- 

I've got you, Brucie, let *go* -- 

And that sound -- 

He is groaning and bellowing at once, he is -- 

Bruce hadn't realized how much of these sensations he was *keeping* from himself. Now -- now there is only the Fox's *grip* on both of them -- 

The rhythm the Fox is *forcing* -- 

And pleasure. Sweet -- 

Round and *grasping* -- no. That feeling is the heaviness and heat of blood, the tension and *work* at the base of his spine -- 

Singing through his blood -- 

The boy -- 

Dick is near-wordless now, still and -- and almost *limp* as he cries out and shouts --

Taking it, Brucie. Taking every last *inch*. 

Yes. *Yes* -- and he wants to know which sort of thrusts Dick prefers, wants -- 

But these *long* thrusts feel so easy to give, so -- 

Dick is so *open* for him now -- for both of them. They -- 

*No*, Brucie. Not -- not until we're almost there. 

Yes, you're right. I -- *soon* -- 

*God*, yes, and -- 

The Fox moves him faster, then, and just a little harder, just enough to make Dick's cries that much sharper -- 

The slap of Bruce's scrotum against Dick's is so powerful, so -- 

For a moment Bruce is grunting *only* for that -- 

But truly it's everything, it's *this* -- the feeling of *welcoming* heat, the smooth *tightness* that gradually becomes more *textured* -- 

As he makes Dick raw. As -- 

And Dick's cries are so *animal* now, as if higher thought has been lost -- 

He needs Dick's *words* again, he needs -- 

He needs Dick's beautiful *face* -- 

Be ready, Brucie -- 

Bruce grunts again and nods -- 

And then the Fox rises and pulls out -- 

Dickie *wails* -- 

The Fox flips Dickie onto his back, and for a moment -- 

For a moment they can only stare into wide, hungry eyes -- 

The wet, red 'o' of his *mouth* -- 

His flushed *skin* -- 

And the Fox has to smile for that even though he's pretty damned sure it makes him look *crazy* -- 

I've got you, Fox -- 

Uh, *huh* -- "*This* way, Dickie," and the Fox pulls him up onto his lap, cuddles him *close* for a hot second that leads to them grinding and *moving* -- 

"F--*Fox* --" 

"*Yeah*." And it's the easiest thing in the world to spread Dickie's legs around his waist, to spread his cheeks with one hand and *push* -- 

Right -- 

*In* -- 

Dickie gurgles for it, but the Fox wants a cry, a shout -- 

And he gets one when he starts to *bounce*. He gets -- 

He gets a smile and a giggle that turns into another cry -- 

And *another* -- 

"Love you so *much*, Dickie --" 

"Oh -- *ohn* -- *love* --" 

"Yeah, that's just right, that's --" The Fox licks his lips and *flexes* inside Dickie -- 

Dickie looks *shocked* -- 

"*Everything*, Dickie --" 

And then those lean, strong arms are around his neck and Dickie's kissing him -- 

Shouting into his mouth and bouncing *with* the Fox -- 

Licking in and in and shuddering, shaking like -- 

The Fox bites Dickie's lip --

"*Oh* --" 

"*Fuck* against me -- and I'll do the *rest*." 

And Dickie's eyes are *shining* for that, shining like the Fox has done a damned *trick* -- 

But maybe he has. Maybe -- 

He doesn't know. Brucie can figure it out *later*. Right now he's got about two minutes to *take* what he wants -- 

Feel that rock-hard little dick *shoved* against him -- 

Ride that little ass like there's no fucking *tomorrow* -- 

And soon Dickie's eyes are heavy-lidded, soon he's tensed up everywhere *but* his ass as he just *goes* for it -- 

"Feel my hair, Dickie?" 

*Fast* nod -- 

"Feel me sweatin' for you?" 

And his mouth falls open -- 

And that's all the warning *either* of them get before Dickie clenches so hard the Fox sees *stars* -- 

And two minutes was *damned* optimistic, but -- 

"Dickie. *Come*." 

A howl for that -- and Dickie's *slamming* against him, rocking and *riding* -- 

"Oh, *yeah*. Take -- take what you *need*." 

"*You* I need *you*!" 

"You got me, Dickie-bird. You -- *nnh*. I'm gonna *fill* your ass --" 

Dickie *squawks*, high and sharp -- 

Throws his *head* back -- 

And the Fox pulls him in so he can *kiss* that scream as Dickie shoots off, spattering them over and over -- 

The scream keeps *going* -- and the Fox can't -- 

They can't wait. They pull away from the kiss and lick the sweat off Dick's face. They claw Dick's ass and suck his earlobe. They push his head back and suck *lightly* on his throat -- 

More. They need more -- 

"Bruce --" 

"*No*," they say, and -- "Be *ready*." 

"Oh, *yes*!" And Dick squeezes them even tighter, thighs and arms and hard little *feet* pressed up tight to their ass -- 

And they kiss him and move, kiss him and *thrust*, up and *up* -- 

No, *more*, and there's no way to stop themselves from *dropping* Dick on his back -- 

"*Ahn* --!" 

From forcing his lean, beautiful legs back to his *chest* -- 

"Oh, *God*!" 

And they take him, they stare into his *shocked* eyes and fuck him, hard and *harder* until it feels like they've never been broken, until it feels like they're complete and always *will* be. 

It doesn't matter that there's more of them -- *to* them -- that can't fit into *this* moment. It doesn't matter that they're aching and wild, bestial and *rough* -- 

All that matters is this: 

"Yes! Yes! Oh, *yes*!" 

And the *satisfying* sound of their own growls and grunts, their own hungry *push* -- 

The boy -- 

Dick feels so *good*, so -- 

Dick is holding his *own* knees, and the only thing that could make it better is kissing him, taking his sweet mouth, fucking more, fucking in every -- 

Possible -- 

*Way* -- 

And now it's less of a growl than a roar, now it's an *ache* in their spine and the sweet, needy *slap* of their sac against Dick's ass -- 

"*Do* it! Please *do* it!" 

And Dick *doesn't* mean take his beautiful hand and *bite* it -- 

"Oh -- *both* of you!" 

His other hand -- 

They want a *kiss* -- 

They -- 

They'll *take* what they want every day, every hour, every fucking *second* -- 

And that sound is a *cracked* scream -- 

That scent is *tears* -- 

And that ache is pleasure, pleasure taken as far as it can *go* -- 

Almost. 

They smile then and surrender everything to the heat, the rush -- 

The *power* of this boy beneath them and their love, their love that will *never* end -- 

Every *second* -- 

Shuddering and *growling* for it -- 

Collapsing on -- on their *hands* -- 

"I *love* you!" 

Black -- 

And the needy, half-stunned *twitch* of their cock brings them back -- 

Makes them groan and *sob* -- 

No. No, that's *Dick*. And -- he's *clutching* their chest with his thighs -- 

Crying so -- 

"*Dick*." 

Dick jumps and squeezes *hard* with his thighs, reaches up to claw at their face -- 

"Who. Who do you *need*?" 

"Oh -- I don't *know*!" 

They kiss his hands, lick the palms and nibble the calluses -- 

"M-more?" 

"*Always* --" 

And Dick cries out and -- starts clenching *rhythmically*. He -- 

They whimper for that, whimper and *stare* -- no. They can -- they can acknowledge the *impossible*. They shake their head -- 

"Is. Is it wrong?" 

They lick their lips. "Nothing could ever be --" They shake their head again. "You must *rest*." 

"But -- you want --" 

They cover Dick's mouth -- no. They wipe his tears away -- 

They *taste* his tears and shiver, *twitch* -- 

"*Oh*!" 

"*Rest*. You." They swallow. They -- 

They must -- 

"A -- one moment," and they pull themselves into two again, they -- 

He searches, and finds himself in the black -- 

And the Fox is naked beside him, slick with sweat and *partially* erect -- 

Have you looked at yourself lately, Brucie? 

Bruce looks down -- he is naked and slick with sweat. And partially erect. Hm. 

Heh. Go take care of Dickie. 

Are you -- 

I'm sure. I'm still too new at this stuff. 

Bruce strokes the Fox's face with his knuckles and rises --

"Oh -- *Bruce*," and Dick rubs at Bruce's face with his palms. 

"Beautiful boy. Tell me what you need." 

Dick bites his lip. "I'm not. I'm really not *sure*." 

"Then, perhaps, you will trust me to choose for us until such time as you *are* more sure?" 

Dick searches him and nods. "I *do* trust you. I know. I know how much you love me." 

Bruce smiles. "I would find ways to tell you every day." 

*Dick* smiles -- and sniffs. "I know." 

"Breathe deeply and slowly, and look into my eyes." 

"Are you going to hypnotize me?" 

"Call it... directed meditation." 

"Okay, Bruce," and Dick settles and gazes up at him, searching again until Bruce has stilled himself and calmed his own breathing. 

Bruce blinks once every five seconds -- 

And then once every ten -- 

And Dick loosens around him. "Keep breathing, Dick."

"Yes, Bruce -- *yeep* -- oh. Um. Ew?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "We usually use a condom." 

"But -- you didn't want to?"

Bruce settles on his side and strokes Dick gently and firmly. "I honestly didn't think of it -- and the Fox wished to 'bareback'." 

Dick bites his lip again. "You -- you're sleeping with a *lot* of people, Bruce. Maybe you *should* use condoms all the time." 

"A wise thought. Certainly, I have every intention of insisting Clark wear a condom when and if he ever takes me anally --" 

"But -- he can't give or *get* human diseases!"

"That we've discovered, so far. Still, he tends to... ah. He ejaculates rather... copiously." 

Dick stares at him. "Um. It felt like *you* came a lot." 

Bruce laughs. "I assure you, Dick, that it was no more than a teaspoon. Considering my recent activities, it may very well have been less."

A thoughtful nod -- and Dick wipes his eyes. "I -- um. I'm sorry I cried like that." 

"You have nothing to apologize for --" 

"It *can't* have been a turn-on --" 

"On the contrary --" 

"Uh. *Really*?" 

"It seemed clear that you were crying for the intensity of the experience rather than for pain or sadness," and Bruce strokes the bridge of Dick's nose -- 

"I -- my Dad always said I'd grow into my nose eventually." 

"Almost certainly. Though I find it quite beautiful as it is." 

"I'm 'interestingly ethnic,' according to this perv who was following me around when we were outside of Kansas City." 

"That's --" Bruce makes a face. 

Dick snickers. "Yeah, exactly. We beat him up kind of a *lot*. Um. It *was* the -- intensity. I mean, it hurt -- and it still hurts *now* -- but... yeah. That was *really* good, Bruce." 

Bruce kisses Dick's temple. "For us, as well. It seems almost unfair that someone as beautiful and accomplished as you should also be a wonderful lover --" 

"I hardly *did* anything!" 

"You gave yourself to me. You were open and fearless. You pulled me away from *my* fears." Bruce kisses Dick again. "Many, many people have difficulty with all of those things." 

"People *you* sleep with?" 

Bruce thinks of Lex -- 

Beautiful and *tense* Lex -- 

Who is perhaps, even now, training himself in every way to be *open* for Bruce. Bruce smiles. "I'm a very lucky man." 

"Then how do you *know*?" 

"I made a study of sexuality, Dick. Both for my own curiosity, and for the personality I was building for the Fox. In some ways, I'm *still* studying sexuality -- especially since my own has begun to develop in rather surprising ways." 

"Like... wanting me." 

"Yes," and Bruce takes Dick's small hand and squeezes it. "Beloved boy. You are welcome in my bed -- and everywhere else -- as often as you wish." 

Dick raises his eyebrows. "But I have to get out now?" 

Bruce frowns. "No...? Why would I want you to leave?" 

Dick blushes. "Um. It just seemed like you were saying -- never mind." 

Fox -- 

What you were saying sounded like 'goodbye', Bruce. Or at *least* 'goodnight.'

Hm. Thank you. 

Uh, huh. 

"You thought... I was saying goodnight?" 

"Uh. Yeah. I guess. I guess I can't help thinking about what people have told me about... perverts," and Dick frowns deeply. 

Bruce lets go of Dick's hand and begins to stroke him again. "It's true that many pedophiles and ephebophiles only wish to *use* the young people they have sex with --" 

"But -- not you." 

Let me. 

Of course -- 

And the Fox rises and tickles Dickie's chin. "We can talk about *playing* like I'm using you -- I can think of all *kinds* of fun little games we can play --" 

"*Oh* --" 

"But it *would* be just a game, Dickie. I need you too bad to use you -- and you *know* Brucie feels the same." 

"I -- okay --" 

"And hang on a second. This --" The Fox shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "This never has to happen again, Dickie. Not even *once*." 

"But --" 

"But *nothing*. If it turns out that this isn't what you want? If it turns out that you *don't* feel right about making love with me? Hell, even if turns out that you'd rather make love with people your own *age* -- that's all okay. Because I love you so much it *hurts*, and I *want* you so much it hurts even *more* -- but I'm a grown man, Dickie. And we both know that *real* love means that you can damned well let go." 

And -- Dickie's heart is beating fast. *Thundering* a little -- 

"Dickie..." 

"I -- sorry. It's just -- I can't give this up." 

The Fox pants a little -- no, he can breathe, and think -- "I never want you to do anything --" 

"I don't want. I *know*. But -- stop saying stuff like that anyway. Please?"

The Fox frowns. "It makes you think I don't want you?" 

"Um. Kinda?" Dickie laughs a little. "I've never *been* in love before. I don't -- I don't think I know how it works." 

"I'm here, Dickie. Anytime you have a question about *anything* -- but I think there are a lot of questions you'll have to answer for yourself." 

Dickie nods thoughtfully -- and scoots a little closer. "Is this okay?" 

"Hell, yeah. And -- just remember this: *Both* of us have been in love before and we *do* have a fair idea how it works. And -- heh. You had us at hello." 

Dickie grins. "You weren't *like* the other pervs. Well, except for the *burning hunger* in your eyes." 

"Heh. That makes me sound like a *vampire*, Dickie." 

"You vant to suck my diiiick!" 

The Fox snorts. "As a matter of *fact*..." 

And Dickie *grunts* -- "Oh -- *ow* -- um. Okay, so I don't think anything is going on in my ass for a while," he says, and smiles ruefully.

"Yeah, those endorphins probably are wearing off. We'll take it a little easy on you tomorrow --" 

"No! Training comes *first*." 

The Fox blinks. "Yeah...?" 

"That's the *rule*. That's how you get to be the *best*," and Dickie grins. "I'm *going* to be the best someday." 

Oh... 

Yeah. The Fox kisses Dickie right down to the bed, kisses him hard and rough and *right* -- 

And Dickie moans for it and wraps his arms around the Fox's neck -- 

The Fox rolls them until Dickie's on *top* -- and then he gets a double-handful of that sweet little ass and *squeezes* until Dickie squeaks into his mouth and shivers. He licks Dickie a few more times and pulls back. "Then I won't take it easy on you at *all*. How's that?" 

Dickie grins -- and squeezes the Fox with his thighs. "Perfect!" 

Jesus, yes -- 

Agreed.


	28. Chapter 28

Bruce wakes briefly when Dick gets up to go to the bathroom -- the sounds he makes fill him with chagrin and a *roughly* satisfied hunger -- but it's easy to sink deep once Dick is in his arms again -- 

Once Dick kisses his chest and leaves his mouth right *there* -- 

He sleeps -- 

And wakes to the Fox kissing him deeply, warmly and *wetly* -- 

Bruce reaches for him -- 

And the Fox growls and bites Bruce's fingers. Harvey is here, Brucie.

And Dick...? 

Snuck out of the big bed about an hour ago -- or tried to. I didn't let him go without a few more kisses. 

Speaking of... 

Yeah, Brucie? 

Have you ever considered waking me up with kisses at least several minutes *before* we must rejoin the land of the entirely conscious? 

Heh. Maybe I *like* being a tease. 

Hm. I suppose it *does* suit you -- 

*Yeah* -- 

\-- if in much the same way as neon fuchsia spandex suits *me*, Fox. 

The Fox coughs. Be gentle with me, Brucie. I'm *tender* inside. 

Bruce *looks* at him. 

Not as tender as Dickie, though. 

Fox. 

You had to see that coming.

Just the same. Bruce breathes deep --

It was windy enough this morning to -- uh. Clear the air?

I'm not sure whether to regret that or not, Fox. 

Heh. Go with *not*, I'm thinking. At least until Harvey is gone.

Oh -- true. Bruce sits up and moves on something like autopilot to the bathroom, meaning to give himself a quick shower and at least a *rudimentary* shave -- what time is it? 

Just about two o'clock. Alfred -- and the rest of the world -- let us sleep in. 

Alfred... 

Yeah, that's a conversation... yeah. 

Yes. Bruce peels off the aging tape and steps into the shower -- 

And has just enough time to sluice off before Harvey is opening the door. "Harv --" 

"How -- why -- you're a father now."

"I --" 

"And why do I have to hear about that from *Al*?" 

"I did say I would --" 

"That's supposed to take *time*, and -- Jesus, look at all your scars. I -- Fox." 

The Fox rises. "What do you need, sugar...?" 

"*Fuck* -- not that. Not this early in the day." 

*Bruce* rises. "I was expecting you to spend much of today at work --" 

"Yeah, well, so was I. And then Alfred *called* me. How do you not -- *when* did you make that *decision*? I thought you were just thinking about it!" 

"Which question should I answer first?" 

Harvey stares at the scar that had fascinated Dick. "In the fluorescents these look like --" Harvey shakes his head. "How close were you to losing something important there?" 

"Not very, ultimately. The -- I wear an armored jock for any number of reasons." 

Harvey blows out a breath and looks up. "Okay, I feel a little better," he says, and smiles ruefully. "*Now* tell me about Dick. *More* than you did when I was freaking out." 

"He introduced himself to me at the circus. I believe I looked both fascinatingly wealthy and wildly out-of-place. We had the chance to speak extensively, and he convinced me to invest. I was looking forward to seeing him perform with his family -- and, perhaps, learning things the Fox would be able to use..." Bruce shakes his head. "That's why I agreed to go to the circus in the first place. Dick and his parents were quite well-known in gymnast and acrobat circles. After I watched his parents fall to their deaths, I..." Bruce turns his face into the spray for a moment. "Meeting him had already changed my mind about having young people in my life, Harvey. There was... no true moment of decision." 

"That -- and he knows." 

"Yes." 

"Because you're *training* him." 

"He'd followed the careers of vigilantes closely -- and he can do many, many things I can't even approach. He has a kind of raw, physical *genius*... and he asked." 

"I -- *any* kid would, Bruce!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Would you have?" 

"Well -- no. But I already *knew* what I wanted to do with my life." 

Bruce smiles a *little* like the Fox. "So did he." 

Harvey shakes a finger at him. "*Watch* that. Also, why didn't you ever tell me you liked to *prance*?" 

"It never really came *up*, Harv --" 

"Not that there's anything wrong with prancing. In moderation. In --" Harvey takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me you're not dressing *Dick* up in silk fancy-pants." 

"Fancy -- hm." 

"That is, in fact, the technical name for those, big guy. You really ought to know that by now." 

Bruce touches his tongue to his upper lip. "If you're sure." 

Harvey smiles wryly. 

"Yes, you definitely seem to be sure. Hm. In truth, I haven't given *much* thought to what his uniform should look like. He's already chosen a name for himself, though." 

"Yeah?" 

"Robin." 

Harvey frowns. "That's not very... uh. Intimidating?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "He hasn't told me why he chose that name, but I suspect it has deep personal meaning. Harv... *he* won't be especially intimidating. Until such time as people learn -- to their detriment -- just what he can do." 

Harvey nods, but he seems troubled. 

"I won't be allowing him on the street until such time as I feel he can hold his own, Harv. Additionally, I'm going to make sure he's trained by other people, as well." 

"Yeah, I figured. You've always been real damned *thorough*, big guy, but..." Harvey's smile is pained. "You don't think it's a little messed-up to be training a kid to beat the hell out of people?" 

Oh... that. 

Yes, Fox. I -- Bruce reaches out -- no, his hands are wet -- 

"I'm okay, Bruce, I promise. I just -- talk to me?" 

Bruce nods and starts to soap himself. "He has... I don't want to break his confidence -- and I'm not sure whether he considers this to be a secret or not -- but... there is a history of violence and a predilection toward it that I'm hoping to channel toward more appropriate targets." 

"What -- was he abused?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "It would be more accurate to say that he had a history of inviting abusers to get -- just -- close enough that he and his extended family could... turn the tables on them." 

Harvey blinks. "Uh." 

"Yes."

"Was he gonna go after *you* that day?" 

"If I had proved myself to be a certain variety of... pervert, yes." 

Harvey chokes on a laugh. "So maybe he's not too good at reading people?" 

You can't contradict him, Brucie. 

Oh -- no. But -- "He's actually quite good at being able to tell when someone is being honest with him, which is, I believe, part of why he chose to speak with me for so long." 

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "'Part of'?" 

It hurts to lie -- 

He'd promised he *wouldn't* anymore -- 

There's no choice, Brucie. 

No, I. I know. Bruce smiles ruefully. "My generalized aura of 'rich tourist' almost certainly helped." 

Harvey snorts. "And you're sure he's not gonna just steal the silver and make a break for it?" 

"Harv." 

Harvey looks at him. 

"Yes, Harv, I'm quite sure." 

"Because *you're* so good at reading -- holy crap, you actually are," and Harvey covers his face with his hands for a moment -- and then moves them to smile at Bruce *sharply*. "I'm gonna keep tripping over that, you know." 

"I wish I had never lied to you." 

"Even though you know I would've tried to talk you out of it?" 

Bruce nods. 

Harvey looks pained -- "I think. I think I have to think about the city as a whole, sometimes, big guy." 

"Yes." 

"And that means --" Harvey shakes his head. "We need you too much. It's not like I *don't* get angry thinking about you lying to me -- I *really* do -- but then I start thinking about how I could almost *always* talk you into -- or out of -- things... and then my balls start to creep."

Bruce soaps his genitals quickly and thoroughly -- 

And Harvey doesn't tense or look. He -- 

It's something to be grateful for, Brucie. 

Yes, I -- yes. "I am... not entirely comfortable with being thought of as --" 

"An institution?" 

Bruce winces. "Yes." 

Harvey claps Bruce's shoulder. "Deal with it." 

"Harv --" 

"Oh, *I'll* treat you like my brother. You're just my brother who is *completely and totally necessary to the continued existence of my home*." 

"Oh -- Harv --" 

Harvey squeezes Bruce's shoulder. "You're -- not alone as much as I thought you were. Right?" 

Bruce swallows. "I -- I was. But now I'm not, no." 

Harvey nods. "And... are you still making a damned force field for Superman? Why *were* you pissed at him? Or -- are you still?" 

"We've had the chance to speak substantively since then. I still find him somewhat... worrying, and I still believe that it's the height of prudence for other vigilantes to keep kryptonite on hand in case of mind control or the like, but... I've come to like him." 

"'Like'...?" 

Bruce hums. "He is... a rather exciting lover." 

Harvey coughs. "You -- uh." 

"Lex is definitely going to have something to say about it, though." 

"I... probably shouldn't want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, hunh?" 

"Harv. Schadenfreude is unbecoming." 

Harvey snickers -- and covers it rather transparently with another cough. 

And then giggles and coughs again. 

And *then* takes a deep breath -- and pulls on an expression of utmost innocence. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

Harvey shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "I'm -- sorry?" 

"Hm." 

The corners of Harvey's mouth twitch and he licks his lips. "I'm definitely sorry." 

Bruce gives up and he smiles helplessly. "I... may have taken an unseemly amount of pleasure in teasing Superman about various things over the past few years." 

"What, to his *face*?" 

Bruce hums again. "Whenever possible." 

"That -- that's like teasing Mother *Katerina*!" 

Yeah, you can't really -- oh, wait. 

Yes. "I wasn't aware that Mother Katerina numbered her lovers in the dozens, Harv." 

Harvey's jaw drops. "I -- *seriously*?" 

Bruce smiles. "I find I hope he irradiates himself thoroughly between... encounters." 

Harvey *snorts* - 

And Bruce reaches to turn the shower off -- 

"No, wait, lemme get your back since I'm here." 

"All right. Thank you --" 

"Uh, huh. I'm gonna try this thing where I'm *not* hitting on you in the most pointless and hurtful way possible, and maybe you can do that thing where you're doing exactly what you're doing now. Okay?" 

Bruce turns and braces his arms on the wall. "All is well, Harv." 

"Yeah, well, it *better* be -- wait. How many people *are* you screwing? I mean -- you didn't break up with *anyone*, did you?" 

Only Mother -- 

Really no, Brucie. 

As you say. "Dinah is a 'friend with benefits,' as is Superman --" 

"Whose name you *absolutely* know, and no, I *don't* wanna know -- wait. You're serious about *Lex*, aren't you?" 

"Harv --" 

"That's an answer," and Harvey sighs, scrubbing at Bruce's back in the way that has always made him hum and relax. "Is he good to you?" 

"Exceedingly so." 

"Is he -- is he *good* to you? And you know what I mean." 

Bruce closes his eyes. "You taught me much about love, Harv." 

"And he's teaching you even more?" 

"And, hopefully, I am teaching him." 

"Yeah, I -- there was so much I was clueless about before Gilda -- ah, well. We did a damned good job despite ourselves." 

Bruce smiles. "Yes." 

"I'm always gonna love you, big guy." 

Bruce turns and sluices his back. "And I you." 

Harvey smiles wryly and cocks his head to the side. "What happens when the kid winds up with a crush on you?" 

The Fox gives Bruce the wherewithal to laugh. "Then I hope -- sincerely -- that Dinah has a few younger siblings." 

Harvey snickers again. "Yeah, *right*. God. You know you gotta go talk to Mom and Dad, right?" 

Mother... 

What she had *done* for him with Harvey -- 

To Harvey? 

"Big guy...? What's wrong?" 

Bruce frowns and turns off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. "I..." He studies Harvey for a long moment, looking for signs of -- something. Fox... 

I've never seen anything. Not like that. Or -- I don't know. 

"Bruce, you're worrying me, a little." 

Bruce nods. "I'm sorry. Would you tell me... how do you feel about our parents?" 

Harvey blinks. "Uh. I love them? I mean -- that's not a question." 

"You've never found yourself... doubtful about them?" 

"Like... their motivations?" 

Bruce swallows and nods. 

"I..." Harvey turns away and laughs quietly. 

"Harv --" 

"You -- uh. That's a question you've never asked, big guy." 

Oh... "I should have."

Harvey strokes the edge of the sink -- and then flips the toilet seat cover down and sits. And points at the side of the tub. 

Bruce sits, as well -- 

And Harvey smiles at him ruefully again. "First off -- you *sure* you wanna hear this?" 

"Yes, Harv. I... my most recent conversation with Mother..." Bruce shakes his head. 

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "I don't know if I wanna -- no. Did she *admit* that they all but bought me for you?" 

Bruce winces. "Yes. Because... because I was so hopeless socially. And so in love with you." 

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "I -- *do* I wanna know how that came up? I mean -- let's face it, big guy, your relationship with Mom has always been pretty damned... special." 

Bruce reaches out -- 

And Harvey squeezes his hand. "You can tell me anything *anyway*. I'm never -- I'm always gonna love *you*." 

Bruce shakes his head. "I think..." Bruce squeezes Harvey's hand in turn. "We talked about the inappropriateness of our relationship to date." 

"Uh. Yeah?" And Harvey is blushing. "I think -- I think I always told myself that you just didn't *notice*, big guy." 

"I didn't for a very long time. But... it was time for me to face myself." 

"And... what did you see?" 

"That I have, in some ways, buried myself in love for Mother instead of reaching out to the wider world." 

"Yeah, that. Uh --" 

"You tried to tell me that multiple times. I..." Bruce smiles and squeezes Harvey's hand again. "I can be... rather egregiously dim." 

"Even with the Fox running a mile a minute in the back of your brain somewhere?" 

"Even then. It's... I told Jim a few days ago that I've always found it far easier to psychoanalyze others than to psychoanalyze myself." 

"Ah, we all have blind spots. But -- what did she *say*?" 

"She... she told me that *she* was fully aware of the inappropriateness of our relationship to date --" 

"*Christ*." 

"I can't -- I can't really talk about it more than that." 

"No, I -- that's traumatic as *hell*. Are you *okay*?" 

Bruce looks down for a moment -- 

I'm here, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes, you -- Bruce looks up again. "I will be. I... perhaps once I'm capable of viewing her entirely objectively." 

"Uh. She's your *mother*. Viewing her objectively is gonna be kind of a *challenge*, big guy." 

"I tend to find challenges stimulating, Harv." 

Harvey's expression -- quirks. 

"Hm. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that with quite so much relish." 

Harvey laughs a little breathlessly. "Maybe -- maybe not," and Harvey turns his hand so they can twine their fingers together. "Brother... okay, you wanna know how I feel, yeah?" 

"Very -- very much." 

"Okay. They saved me. They -- they pulled me out of *hell*, and then spent all kinds of money getting me clear in my head, and *then* let me have you. Because -- okay. I'm *pretty* sure Dad didn't have clue one that we were fucking like animals back then, but I'm *absolutely* sure Mom did. Because -- well. She has eyes like *Al*." 

"She -- told me she knew." 

Harvey blows out a breath. "Yeah, like that. So -- yeah. All of that is piled in their favor, and so is the fact that they never once treated me as anything *but* their son. They really didn't have to do that --" 

"They *did* --" 

"They didn't, brother. Because I didn't expect that from them, and I would've been *just* as happy to be their ward or -- whatever the fuck. Instead, they adopted me like *that* --" Harvey snaps the fingers of his other hand -- "And they made sure I was comfortable, and they asked my opinion about things, and they *listened* to me whenever I needed to talk to someone other than *you* --" 

"Is it -- is it truly *enough*?" 

Harvey smiles ruefully again. "It is, yeah. Because no way would I have had a chance at *any* of that without them -- and without them loving *you*. And, yeah, I always knew they would always love you *more* --" 

"Harv --" 

"Wait a sec, okay?" 

Bruce frowns and nods. 

Harvey squeezes Bruce's hand hard. "You're their *biological* son. You *look* like them. You *talk* like them. Hell, you even like the same *books* they like. I just -- it's *okay*, big guy. They've been damned *good* parents to me, and yeah, even when I knew in my bones that that had more to do with what good people they were than with how much they really *saw* me as a son... I had you. And I knew I would *always* have you. For that... ah, big guy. For that -- and for the way I've *also* always known in my bones that they saw me as a good *friend* -- they could've been assholes and I'd *still* love them." 

"It. It just doesn't seem *correct*, Harv." 

Harvey laughs softly. "That, right there. I never could figure out why you weren't closer to Dad. I could *always* picture you sitting up being *correct* with each other." 

Bruce feels his expression twist more than a little. "I believe that's *why* we aren't close, Harv." 

"Ah -- and there's that. God, *I* have more conversations with Dad than you do, don't I?" 

"From the very *beginning*. It's -- well, it's one of the things which reassured me about our parents' feelings for you." 

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "I can see that, yeah. I..." Harvey pushes his free hand back through his hair. "We talk about the law, and about interesting medical cases, and the places where law and medicine intersect, and about -- hell, the business, you know? I give him tips on how to keep an eye on the WE legal department, and he pretends he can't beat me at chess in less time than it takes for me to sneeze. He's a good guy, Bruce. He's a *great* guy, and -- you should be closer to him." 

"I've wondered... I believe Mother wanted me to be her son alone, Harv." 

Harvey winces. "Yeah, well, you're *not*. Give him -- give him a chance sometime, okay?" 

"I will. I only... I wish they could have given you the love you always deserved." 

"I know, big guy. Just -- don't be sad for *me*, okay? I'm living an incredible life, with *almost* everything I've ever wanted. And it's *okay* that I don't have everything -- because I don't, actually, *need* it. As opposed to needing you to keep being the best brother a guy could ever have." 

"Oh -- I love you, Harv." 

"And I love you. *Forever*. I wish -- I *do* wish you didn't have to keep secrets from me, but..." Harvey squeezes Bruce's hand again. "That's okay, too. So long as we know the *important* things about each other, yeah?" 

"Yes." Harv, I'm in love -- 

We're in love with the most beautiful boy -- 

He loves us, as well -- 

No, Brucie. 

I -- I know. 

"Hey, are you still down?" 

"I've been... thinking too much about Mother, lately." 

"Ah, big guy --" And Harvey stands and pulls Bruce to his feet, as well. The hug is warm and firm -- 

And Bruce is profoundly pleased that he has -- mostly -- air-dried. Alfred wouldn't be pleased if they ruined Harvey's wonderful suit -- 

And Harvey kisses Bruce's cheek -- "Okay, ow. Time for *you* to shave." 

"Hm. I find myself tempted to nuzzle you." 

Harvey snorts and slaps the side of Bruce's head. "*Not* to freak the soon-to-be-Mrs.-Wayne out, you jerk." 

"As you say," Bruce says, smiling and pulling back to stir the shaving foam. 

"I am just never going to get you to admit the utility of safety razors, am I." 

"The shave just isn't close enough, Harv. Though I do carry them for times when my dark stubble would otherwise show too much on the street." 

"You *shave* on the *street*?" 

The Fox grins. "One must *strive* to do the *necessary*, sugar --" 

"I'll give you necessary, you freak," and Harvey smacks him again -- 

"Abuse! Abuuuuuse! Won't someone *save* me?" 

Harvey stares at him with his mouth open. 

The Fox winks and closes Harvey's mouth *for* him. And switches his hips. 

Harvey looks *pained* -- 

I believe it's my turn again, Fox. 

Le sigh. Yeah, I know. 

Bruce rises and raises an eyebrow. "Should I apologize...?" 

Harvey looks *more* pained -- 

"Hm. Should I apologize *sincerely*...?" 

"How the hell do you turn that on and *off* like that?" 

Bruce laughs and begins to spread the foam. "Years of practice." 

"But --" 

"I began acting as the Fox while I was still training, Harv." 

"Okay, but how did your senseis put *up* with that?" 

"Master-class martial artists tend to be very, very adept at discerning insincerity in the people who study under them. All of them could tell that I was truly there to learn -- and none of them had very many compunctions about drawing *firm* lines for acceptable behavior." 

"Meaning they beat the crap out of you." 

Bruce smiles and checks to see if the foam is situated evenly -- it is. "Vigorously. And often." 

Harvey crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. "How many of them can *still* take you?" 

"Singly? Perhaps one or two. Though none of them have had the leisure to study as *many* different schools of martial arts as I have. And none of them carry as many weapons as I do as a matter of course." 

"*Are* you paranoid? I mean -- pathological about it." 

Bruce waves a hand and flips the razor open -- 

"Jesus, I just realized -- uh." 

"Yes, Harv?" 

"Even the way you flick your damned straight razor is belligerent. Like you're about to slice some poor bastard open." 

Bruce stares at the razor and his own hand -- "Hm. I see your point. It is, perhaps, a side effect of the amount of time I spend stabbing and slashing people." 

"Which is too damned -- strike that statement from the record." 

"Harv --" 

"We don't believe the same things, big guy. And that's okay," Harvey says, and nods toward the razor. "Hurry up, Al is waiting brunch for you." 

"Hm. Dick needs to --" 

"*Dick* was eating a B.L.T. when I got here, because Al isn't going to let *any* teenaged boy go hungry. But he should be eating more. He's a little on the lean side." 

Bruce nods and begins to shave. "Some of that is the nature of his athleticism, but I plan to show him that he'll be able to do everything he needs to do while weighing seven to ten more pounds." 

"Okay, then. How big were his parents?" 

"They were both between five-feet-eight-inches and five-feet-ten-inches tall, and both quite well-muscled, if relatively lean. I..." Bruce shakes his head. "I didn't get the opportunity to meet them." 

Harvey rubs Bruce's arm before crossing his own arms again. "You think they were good to him?" 

"Yes. One only needs to speak to Dick for a brief time to learn of wonderful things they did and said for and to him. Additionally, the circus as a whole was a great family to him. A part of me..." Bruce rinses the razor and frowns -- 

"You feel guilty for taking him away from them." 

"Yes, I do. But -- not guilty enough." 

"That's -- well, that's you all over, big guy. I don't know *much* family law, but I'm betting his parents took some heat over the years for raising Dick in a circus environment anyway, and never mind the fact that he was theirs by blood. I *highly* doubt they would've let anyone *else* from the circus keep him. And -- you're gonna give him the best of everything. You don't have anyone to apologize to or any*thing* to apologize *for* --" 

"Really *not*, Bruce -- oh," and *then* Dick knocks. "Um. Sorry. You probably don't barge in the bathroom when people are there, at all, do you?" 

Harvey grins. "*He* doesn't, but I do." And Harvey jerks his chin at Dick. "What's up? Do you need to speak to Bruce alone?" 

Dick gives Harvey a *shrewd* look -- and then nods to himself. "I'm okay. Alfred just wanted to know if you were gonna stay for lunch." 

"I -- shouldn't. I need to sit on Carlyle to make sure she doesn't find any more hitmen to have play-dates with -- and listen to me." Harvey snorts again and pushes a hand back through his hair. "How much *do* you know about what this guy does at night?" 

"Not *enough*! Who's Carlyle? What did she do? Which hitmen were they?" 

Harvey looks pained again -- 

And Bruce hums helplessly. "I'll tell you everything later, Dick. The short answer is that Helene Carlyle -- one of Harvey's fellow ADAs -- became embroiled in organized crime activities. I overheard her speaking with her 'handler' one day and we began watching her closely. She finally confessed last night, and now we are using her as bait." 

"Oh, *wow*! Uh -- isn't that *dangerous*?" 

"Exceedingly so. However, Carlyle is being monitored as closely as possible." 

"And bent cops don't get all that much sympathy from me," Harvey says, mood clearly darkening. 

Dick nods thoughtfully. "In some cities, the *cops* are the ones who ask for bribes from -- us. From the circus, I mean." 

Bruce cups Dick's shoulder and squeezes firmly -- 

"I'm okay, Bruce. I already cried once today." 

"Dick, you know --" 

"*You* know I don't want to cry on you all the time. So... deal." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "As you say. Though I would like to know more about the cities and corrupt officers in question." 

"Because -- you can totally sic superheroes on them. That is --" Dick hugs him hard. 

Bruce hums again and strokes Dick's hair twice before going back to shaving. "I feel quite sure that I would take a great deal of pleasure -- perhaps even an inordinate amount -- in doing just that, Dick." 

Dick giggles and squeezes him even more firmly -- 

And Harvey smiles happily. "All right, that's pretty great right there." 

"Yeah, it is," Dick says, and squeezes *harder* -- before pulling back. "*Are* you staying?" 

"Ah -- rain check? I gotta be responsible."

Dick bites his lip and nods -- and then hugs Harvey. 

"Whoa, hey -- why do *I* rate this?" 

"Because you're Bruce's brother, and that makes you *family*," and Dick, Bruce thinks, would sound much the same explaining that water is wet.

Harvey gives Bruce a wry look -- 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- 

And Harvey sighs happily and hugs Dick back. "You got that right, kiddo. Hey, how do you feel about baseball?" 

Dick pulls back and wrinkles his nose -- and then blinks. "Um. I'm sure it's great?" 

Harvey snorts and ruffles Dick's hair. "It *is* great, and I promise to stuff you full of *horrible* food if you let me take you to a game or two sometime." 

Dick grins and rocks on his heels. "And beer?" 

God, I love him. 

Yes. But. "Dick." 

Dick sticks his tongue out at him and -- explodes into motion, flipping onto his hands and out the door. And, presumably, down the hall. 

"Whoa." 

"Indeed." 

"That -- do humans really bend like that? I mean, I've seen *you* flipping around like water on a damned *griddle* out there, but *you* look like you're working for it." 

"And I am. Exceedingly hard," Bruce says, and checks for missed stubble -- 

"'Physical genius,' you said. I see it. And -- you're good with the stubble. Though that spot on your jaw is even bigger, you damned bear." 

"Hmm. Lex calls me that." 

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't let him convince you to shave off all the *nice* hair." 

Bruce tugs at the hair around his nipples. "Does this count as nice hair, Harv?" 

"*That* counts as fucking *floss*. For -- uh. Someone?" And Harvey snickers and gives Bruce a playful shove -- "And don't Fox at me!" 

Bruce bats his lashes -- 

"Augh!" 

And Bruce laughs softly. "I'm planning to go out of town for a day or two to visit with Lex and *his* new ward." 

"He -- what --" 

"An assassin named Cain was systematically training and abusing a young girl. Lex's operatives found footage of her and managed to send it back to Lex before the assassin murdered them. He asked me to rescue her, and Superman found them and brought me to China yesterday --" 

"Yesterday -- Superman -- uh. When did you have *time*?" 

Bruce smiles and washes his face thoroughly. "I had to break off training with Dick and Dinah, but Superman is very, very powerful. More so than he generally lets on." 

"That's kind of..." 

"Worrying...?" 

Harvey's laugh is a breath. "Well -- yes. You still can't kryptonite him unless he *really* deserves it, big guy." 

"Noted. In any event, we were -- eventually -- able to rescue her, but only by using excessive force with Cain, who managed to shoot all three of us." 

"You got *shot*?" 

Bruce points to the bruise over his ribs. "I've had injuries like that before. I've been working, when I have time, on sturdier body armor." 

"*Make* time!" 

"Yes, I believe I will. Getting shot hurts abominably." 

Harvey stares at him. 

"Harv...?" 

Harvey pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Okay. Just tell me they're putting him *under* some jail *somewhere*." 

The Fox shudders within him -- 

Bruce moves to hug him, and, outside, he smiles ruefully. "I'm afraid not. As I said, I had to use excessive force. And, once he knew I had beaten him... he leapt off the side of a cliff." 

"Holy -- uh. That kinda thing doesn't *happen* to you all that often. Does it?" 

"Never before. And, hopefully, never again. I should have known by the way he shot Cassandra that he was capable of absolutely anything." 

"Is *she* okay? And -- how old is she?" 

"We think she's around five years old. The shot passed through her leg and only nicked the bone slightly. She should make a full physical recovery." 

"And -- Lex is gonna get help for her *mind*, too?" 

And that... 

I don't see a *shrink* in her future, Brucie, but... 

Yes. "I have reason to believe that he will do everything in his power to get her the help she needs. It is... part of the bargain we made." 

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "But you had to think about it?" 

Bruce hums and moves back to his bedroom to dress. "I had to think about the question of *what* he would do for her -- and when he would do it." 

"Uh. That's not actually better, big guy." 

"No, it's only..." Bruce laughs again and pulls out training clothes. "He's quite fond of female assassins. And psychologically troubled people, in general." 

"So... he *won't* get her help? What?" 

Bruce dresses quickly. "He will do everything -- and anything -- to make her happy. If her happiness comes without what you or I would call psychological health..." 

"Uh. I don't know how I feel about that." 

"It isn't an especially comfortable attitude to have -- or witness," and Bruce pauses with a jock in his hand. 

We'll regret it when we're alone with Dickie. 

Point. But -- 

We won't be sparring with him *yet*. 

Bruce puts the jock back and pulls on his shorts, then sits down for his shoes and socks. When he looks up, Harvey is staring out the window with a thoughtful frown on his face. 

Harvey stays that way while Bruce pulls on his t-shirt and dabs on one of the colognes Harvey had chosen for him, and doesn't turn back until Bruce is neatening his hair -- 

"It is *intensely* weird that Dad's hair is longer than yours." 

"Hm. I have to --" 

"For the Fox, I know. I -- just tell me the girl will be okay." 

"She will. If there is ever a moment when I feel that she would be better served by another guardian --" 

"You'll break Lex's balls until he gives her up?" 

"Literally, if necessary." 

Harvey shivers. "You're kind of a *hammer*, aren't you?" 

Bruce stares at his scarred knuckles for a moment. "I am... a very violent man. I would worry about myself if I lacked outlets... but we live in Gotham." 

"Yeah, I guess we do. I -- Bruce. Someone... do you remember when my biological father got beaten so badly he wound up in the hospital? It was... it was right before the adoption went through." 

Bruce nods. 

"You... didn't. Right?" 

"No, Harv. I knew very little about how to fight effectively then, and the reports all suggested a certain *systematic* quality to the violence. I..." 

Hunh. 

Do you think...

She would, Brucie. She really, *really* would. 

But -- she'd already blackmailed -- 

You *don't* think she believes in getting revenge? And where the hell did we *get* this violent streak from, anyway? 

But how would she *find* someone to do that? 

The Foundation goes *everywhere*, brother, and -- 

"Bruce? You still in there?" 

Bruce swallows and nods. "I... had always assumed it was a matter of the man's gambling debts." 

"So did *I*. And I'm *back* to thinking that. And -- I think you should be, too." 

Bruce blinks and stares into Harvey's eyes -- 

And they are just as frightened as his own *feel*. 

"Harv --" 

"Uh. No. We're not thinking about this, big guy." 

"If she... if she hired --" 

Harvey covers Bruce's mouth with his hand. "If she did it? He deserved it. And -- that's exactly where we're gonna leave it. Okay?" 

Bruce nods again. 

"You -- you can ask her the next time you have a terrifying conversation with her. Just leave me *right* out of it." And Harvey moves his hand. 

"All right, Harv. I -- I will." 

"Okay. Okay. Hug me." 

Bruce pulls Harvey close. "I love you, brother." 

"And I love you. Please don't get any scarier than you already are." 

"Hm." 

"No, Bruce. That is *not* something you answer with a noncommittal grunt." 

Bruce smiles and kisses Harvey's cheek. "If you're sure." 

Harvey snorts and pulls back. "No scarier." 

"All right, Harv." 

"And -- uh. No, I can't actually tell you to *greet* Lex for me." Harvey makes a face. 

"It's... the thought that counts?" 

"Dad wouldn't think so. I promise to be a better person if he makes an honest ultraviolent vigilante out of you." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You will, of course, be my maid of honor." 

"Maid of --" And Harvey makes a sound reminiscent of a small animal being squeezed in a manner it finds unpleasant. "Is he -- are you -- I'm going back to work." 

Bruce smiles. "All right, Harv." 

"You -- yeah. Be good." 

The Fox turns the smile to a grin --

"Oh, I feel it coming. Hit me."

"I think you'd like it better if I were *bad*, sugar..." 

Harvey blows out a breath. "Yeah, okay. That wasn't too bad. A little too Mae *West* -- but not too bad." 

The Fox purses his lips. "Come on up and *see* --" 

"Good*bye*." 

Bruce rises and smiles ruefully. "Have a good day, Harv." 

"You, too, you big -- I already called you a freak today, didn't I?" 

"Vehemently." 

"Ah, I love you for it, anyway. I'm gonna see if I can convince Al to send me back with some leftovers. *You* go eat." 

"As you say." 

And Harvey waves as he walks out the door, making Bruce remember the way he had looked at Mother the first time she had visited Bruce at Exeter -- 

("She's so *cheerful*." 

"Most of the time, yes." 

"And -- she and your Dad really get along? Most of the time?" 

"Oh, yes. They love each other very much.") 

And Harvey had nodded thoughtfully, lean and beautiful as he sat on his desk -- until a shadow had taken his features the way it often did then. Bruce had had no idea how to even *approach* those shadows, and had stayed quiet more than anything else. 

If his parents hadn't seen the abuse for themselves -- 

If Mother hadn't insisted on adopting Harvey --

If Father hadn't worked with Leslie to find the best child psychiatrists...

Then what? 

Doesn't bear thinking about, Brucie. 

We must -- we must consider it, if only to be properly grateful. 

Grateful is one thing, but -- we're always gonna have to be careful, too. We have secrets -- and so do they. 

Bruce moves to the bed and strips the sheets and pillowcases from it before taking them to the hamper. Yes. I. We must take -- 

\-- the bitter with the sweet. Always. 

Always.


	29. Chapter 29

Dick is somewhat winded at the end of their three-mile run through Grant Park, but he still breaks into a creditable sprint when they turn the corner and see the brightly-colored trailer parked in front of the house. Bruce keeps up as best as he can -- 

And the trailer rocks dramatically as Annie steps out with her arms open. She is *wreathed* in smiles as Dick launches himself into her arms, and -- 

Hm.

Well, she pretty much *had* to be strong, too, Brucie. 

Yes, I imagine so. 

Bruce hangs back and watches Annie leave bright red lipstick marks all over Dick's face -- 

And then the same bearded woman who had snapped the picture of the Graysons with the Drakes steps out of the townhouse -- with a person whose gender isn't immediately apparent. 

There is long, well-coiffed blond(e) hair, subtle makeup, and a suit which is tailored decidedly ambiguously. 

I... uh. I got nothin', brother. 

We will wait to be guided. 

There ya go. 

Bruce moves to introduce himself to them -- 

God, I can't decide if I want the neighborhood to see every minute of this or just see us welcoming them into our *home*. 

Oh, yes. Bruce offers his hand first to the bearded woman -- who *presents* her hand. Bruce smiles broadly and kisses it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is --" 

"Bruce Wayne, yes, I *know*," she says, and her voice is somewhat high and piping. "I'm Emma, and this is Devon." 

... damn. No help there. 

As you say. Bruce squeezes Emma's hand gently and then turns to Devon -- who offers him a *firm* handshake and a blown kiss. And a wink. 

Okay, let's take... hir... inside.

Fox.

There's nothing wrong with curiosity *or* experimentation. 

Hm. Bruce inclines his head. "I'm pleased to meet you, as well, Devon. Are you both close to Dick?" 

When Devon smiles, there's a distinct sense of something being *unfolded*, or perhaps simply -- offered. It reminds Bruce strongly of Selina, and that -- 

You see what I mean. 

I do, yes. 

"Oh, Devon, be *nice*!" And Emma flaps a hand at... hir. 

"I'd rather be *amazing*, Emmie," and Devon's voice is low, smooth, and -- ambiguous. 

Heaven *help* me, ze's wonderful. 

Yes -- 

"The whole circus is close to Dick, Mr. Wayne --" 

"Please, both of you, call me Bruce." 

Devon raises one well-shaped eyebrow -- and nods. "All right. Bruce. I'll be honest with you... you have us worried." 

"I imagine it must seem odd and worrying for a stranger like myself to take Dick in --" 

"*Exactly*." And Devon cocks hir head to the side. "What's your game?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Before I met Dick, I thought that I would never want to be closer to a young person than being an uncle to the children I know my brother hopes to have with his fiancée. Dick changed my mind nearly instantaneously --" 

"But what do you *want* with him? Just about any woman in this city would agree to get knocked-up by you..." And Devon makes a show of looking him over. "You wouldn't even have to pay all that much for most of them." 

"Ah -- hm." 

Devon taps hir foot -- 

Emma looks *avid* -- 

And Annie is watching every moment, even as she very skillfully keeps Dick away from him. 

Pull out all the stops, Brucie. 

Yes. "None of those children would be Dick. It's possible that they would be as bright, as kind, as loving, as fearless, as graceful, as open... anything is possible in the world in which we live. All I can say is that I love him, and that I will do everything in my power to provide the best and happiest possible home for him. Always." 

Emma hums. "How *much* do you love him?" 

Devon crosses hir arms over hir chest. "Other than 'enough to buy half the circus.'" 

"Yes, I -- we kinda *have* to know that, Bruce," and the avidity in Emma's eyes hasn't dimmed one iota.

"I love --" 

"He *loves* me enough to have turned me *down* even though I unzipped my jeans and started feeling myself *up*," Dick says -- and Annie is reaching for him. 

We gotta remember that *no* one holds Dickie back unless he *wants* them to. 

Yes. Bruce strokes Dick's hair. "You need not defend me, Dick --" 

"I really *do*. Guys, look, I know you're just trying to protect me, but -- he's a good one." 

Emma and Devon frown at him -- 

And Annie drops into a magnificently *solid* crouch and cups Dick's shoulders. "Dick. We need you to think with your *big* brain here --"

"I *am* --"

"*Dick*." 

Dick frowns. "I'm *listening*." 

Annie smiles ruefully. "You're really not, honey, but I'm going to say this anyway. You have the finest-honed perv sensors I've ever *seen*, *and* you're one big hormone right now. *You* saw something in Bruce. I -- I should've known it from the beginning. You *always* go perv-hunting when we're near the cities. And that's -- okay. I'll *believe* you if you tell me that isn't why you went after Bruce in the first place. So...?" 

"I went *after* him because he looked rich as *hell*. And I was *right*, Annie!" 

Annie searches Dick then, searches long and *deeply* -- 

Ah, since when did we start teaching good little boys to *lie*? 

Fox -- 

I know. I *know*. But this is his only -- 

"Annie... Annie, he's my *family* now." 

Annie bites her lip. "And we're not?" 

"Oh, I --" Dick moves to hug Annie again -- "You'll *always* be my family, Annie, I *promise*! I'll -- I'll call and write -- and I can give my phone number to you guys, and --" 

"Dick..." Devon's voice is *thick* -- 

And Dick pulls away from Annie and goes to hug *hir*. "It's *okay*. It's -- I wish I could have my parents -- I wish --" Dick sobs then, and Bruce reaches -- 

But Annie, Devon, and Emma surround him, whispering and hugging -- 

"I wish I could have my parents *and* Bruce!" 

Bruce shivers and clenches his fists -- 

We can wait, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes. 

And we -- we'll make sure no other little boys have to go through this. *Somehow*. 

Yes -- 

And we'll keep him -- 

Forever, Fox. 

Hell, yes. Now open those fists. 

Bruce does so, and then moves to examine the trailer. 'The Flying Graysons' is written on the sides in bright gold letters, and the rest of the trailer is decorated reds and greens and blues -- 

Ten bucks says those are Dickie's favorite colors. 

No wager. Bruce leans in to test -- yes, the painting was done or at least touched up within the past year. Some of the sequins glued to the edges of the letters have come free, but there is a thick layer of what seems to be epoxy. 

He wants... 

I say we park it *right* in front until we can hire a crane and night construction crew to put it on the roof. 

Brilliant! 

The Fox steps forward within the space they share -- 

Ah, they're in the -- hm. Fox... 

Yeah? And the Fox buffs his nails on his shirt. 

We... why do we have a solarium? 

Uh. I don't actually know. I mean -- it's pretty nice. 

Bruce looks around and -- yes. The mosaic on the floor is of pictorial representations of most of the constellations visible during summer in the northern hemisphere, the room itself is spacious and -- 

Not bright. 

Why is it *night*? 

It's always night in this room. Check it out. The Fox points to the -- large -- telescope. 

Bruce looks through it -- and the moon almost jumps into his field of view. There's something... 

There's something *about* the moon... hm. Something *missing*. Fox? 

Yeah, you... you kind of want to build a space station. Or -- a moonbase, I guess. 

Bruce blinks. I... do? 

You have sketches and everything. 

I don't -- oh. You mean in *here*. 

The Fox makes a drafting table -- and the sketches are right there. There seems to have been a great deal of *research* done... 

I get bored when you're meditating sometimes. 

Hm. Who... who is it *for*? 

The Fox looks at him. 

But I don't even *like* most of the League! Of course, they face any number of threats *from* space, and it would be useful for them to have a base which *couldn't* be attacked especially easily -- 

They *need* a secure space -- 

One which *speaks* of the powers at their disposal -- 

That sort of advertisement could only *help* as a criminal deterrent and... perhaps something of a *political* statement -- 

The Fox clears his throat -- 

And Bruce realizes that he's sitting at the drafting table making -- still more sketches. Hm. Perhaps. Perhaps, I'll come back to this another time -- 

Yeah, Annie's coming. 

Bruce blinks himself back to the outside world and nods to Annie, who is standing at his side and tracing one of the brighter swirls of blue. "Dick did most of this himself." 

Bruce smiles. "That's wonderful. I'll make sure he always has ways to express his creativity." 

Annie gives him a level look, and the light spring breeze lifts and tumbles her bright red-gold curls. 

"Please, say what you wish to say." 

"I know you're fucking him." 

"Annie --" 

"No, don't lie to me. I *want* to like you, and I don't like *anyone* who lies to me. In fact? Don't say anything for a minute. Okay?" 

Bruce frowns and nods. 

Annie nods in turn. "See -- Dick's in love with you. He *told* us that just as neat as you please, *and* did a good enough job making it sound like it had nothing to *do* with sex that Emma and Devon *aren't* sure you're fucking him. But I am." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

And Annie smiles wryly. "Yeah, you're still being quiet for me. I see the way he looks at you. I see..." She sighs. "I don't know why Dickie decided *you* were worth more than a vicious tease and a beating. I don't know if it was just because you were right there to rescue him from that godawful hospital, or if there's something in you that's worth it -- even though you're a child molester." 

Bruce -- doesn't close his eyes. He nods, instead, and keeps himself silent. 

"One thing I want to know. Just one. And -- you never have to admit anything, because I know Dick well enough to know that if you fuck up he *will* get away from you -- no matter how long it takes. I'm just a woman, Bruce. I just don't *care* as much about the next kid who'll make it into your clutches, you know?" 

"Ask, then." 

"Are you ashamed of yourself for how you feel about Dick? Does it *burn*, at all? Does it make you hate yourself? And yeah, that *is* just one question. In the end." 

Bruce takes a deep breath and looks at the trailer once more. One of the sequins falls off the 'y' and Bruce catches it and tucks it in his pocket. "No." 

"You're not." 

"No, I'm not," Bruce says, and turns to meet Annie's eyes. "I love him, as I've said. I am, I think, ennobled by this emotion, as anyone would be who could love Dick for who he is. He is young, and there may come a day when he wishes nothing to do with me. On that day, I will bid him farewell -- but always make sure he has the resources to build his own happiness. I... I could never be ashamed of loving him, Annie, as opposed to hurting him, or caging him, or simply not being the best man I am capable of being. He is more to me than anyone else is, and I swear to you that there will never be a day when I do not live with that fact at the heart of me." 

Annie lifts her chin for a moment, and then nods. "Do you *keep* your promises, Bruce?" 

"Yes." 

Annie nods again and turns to look back at Devon, Emma, and Dick. Dick has stopped crying, and there is a three-way juggling game. His laughter is -- 

I could listen to it all day, Brucie. 

Yes. We will give ourselves that someday -- 

Annie starts -- and narrows her eyes. "You have a secret." 

"I have many." 

"Heh. You -- there's something you told *him* that you're not telling anyone else. You made him feel *special*." 

"He *is* --" 

Annie waves a hand. "Is it illegal?" 

Exceedingly -- but. "My brother is hoping to become the next District Attorney of Gotham City, Annie. I serve the law every day, and will do so until the day I die." 

Annie rears back slightly, and -- 

"Am I supposed to have only *one* passion, Annie?" 

"Heh. All right. Tell me again you'll let him go if -- *when* -- he needs to go." 

"I will let him go. And he will always be allowed to spend time with you and the other people of Haly's." 

"The other --" Annie frowns and bites her lip, turning back to the trailer. 

There's something there. 

Yes. "Annie...?" 

"You sunk a lot of money into our operation, Bruce." 

"There was no way I would rather have spent it." 

"You -- we hired another aerialist family. Out of Florida." 

"Oh... so soon?" 

Annie nods. "The show must go on? Something like that anyway. Having the Flying Todds won't be the same as having John and Mary back, but -- they have a little boy of their own. Jared or Jake or something. He'll be one of *us*. And, thanks to you, we'll be able to protect all of them better... better," and Annie begins to cry silently, shaking all over -- 

"Annie... I can only imagine your loss --" 

"Oh -- God, am I ever not letting you comfort me," she says, laughing and sobbing at once. 

"Then... should I get the others?" 

"Child molesters don't actually *work* like you, you know," and the humor in her eyes is bright, wild with the tears that are still falling --

"So Dick has informed me, but --" 

"No." 

"Please tell me --" 

"Still no, Bruce. I --" 

"Oh, *Annie*!" And Dick snatches all seven balls out of the air and tosses them quickly to Devon and Emma before running to hug Annie once more -- 

"Dickie, *I'm* okay --" 

"I'm hugging you *anyway*!" 

She laughs harder then -- and cries harder, too. Emma joins Annie and Dick --

Bruce backs away -- 

And Devon slips a lean arm through Bruce's elbow. "Walk with me a little ways...?" 

"Of course. But I'm rather sweaty --" 

"It *works* with your cologne, big boy," and ze winks again. 

Bruce inclines his head. "Which way shall we go?" 

Devon points east up the street, and Bruce covers the hand she has on his elbow and walks. 

Devon sighs after the first half-block -- "You really *don't* care what this looks like in broad daylight." 

"I plan to come out as bisexual after Harvey wins the election." 

"Mm, I suppose it would be kind of *challenging* for the Sex Police to take Dick away from someone like you." 

"A wider profile for bisexual, gay, lesbian, and transgendered people can only be helpful, I think. Though I'm not at all sure how I feel about the groups who *force* people out of the proverbial closet." 

"'*Proverbial*' closet, yet. Hnn." 

"That's a very intimidating laugh. If... was it a laugh?" 

"I'm a very intimidating *person*, Brucie. Can I call you Brucie?" 

Bruce smiles. "I'd rather you didn't. That's the name someone very close to me uses." 

"'Someone'...?" 

Bruce smiles more broadly, and doesn't say a word. 

"Ooh, bad boy. I guess I'll just have to wither in curiosity." 

"Would you tell me --" 

"Hnn. Probably not." 

Bruce laughs and pats hir hand. "As you say --" 

"Ask *anyway*. And turn us back around at the corner." 

"I'd hoped to spend more time with you --" 

"Oh, I think I *like* you, Bruce. You're a *very* open-minded man." 

"We live in a world of wonders and miracles, Devon. I believe it is the height of insanity not to open one's mind and heart to them." 

Devon sighs and -- snuggles closer. "No wonder Dickie likes you so much. Ask your question." 

"Do you ever live as someone solely male or female? For pleasure or novelty, perhaps?" 

Devon makes a face. "I joined the circus so that I'd *never* have to pick, Bruce. Do *you* ever go out as a woman? Or something... else?" 

The Fox rises and grins. "That would be *telling*, precious." 

"Oh, *really*." 

The Fox tickles hir chin. "Miracles and wonders, Devon. *All* over the place." 

"You *almost* make me wish we weren't rolling *out* tomorrow." 

"And *you* almost make me wish I wasn't going out of town *tonight*." 

Devon *purrs*, and that -- 

I told you that was attractive, Fox. 

Yeah, yeah. Ze *means* it more. Or -- something. 

Hmm. 

The Fox blows Bruce a raspberry and turns back to Devon. "Philly next...?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

"Maybe Dickie and I can take a little *road* trip." 

"Hnn. It's half *your* circus now. It'd be a shame for you not to... enjoy it," and Devon licks hir sharp little teeth at him. 

"Ooh. Should I make you *sing* for your supper, precious...?" 

Devon raises an eyebrow. "Do you make Dickie...?" 

Bruce rises and raises his own eyebrow. "Never." 

Devon sighs and seems to almost *peel* hirself away from him. "Worth a try." 

"Was it...?" 

"Did *you* enjoy the ambiguously-gendered cuddle?" 

"Very much --" 

"*Will* you be coming to see me in the city of -- sibling--ly love...?" 

Say yes say yes say yes! 

Fox -- 

It only has to be once! 

Bruce hums and lifts hir hand to his mouth, kissing hir knuckles... chastely. 

Devon shivers -- 

"If I am not needed here, I would be honored to visit with you at a time of your choosing." 

"Well, well, big boy --" 

"*Bruce*! You're already dating, like, eight people!" And Dick plants his fists on his hips and glares at him. 

Bruce makes himself look as dim as possible. "Do you think that's too *many*, dumpling...?" 

Dick splutters and giggles, eyes shining --

Devon steps back further -- 

And Dick launches himself into Bruce's arms. 

It is the most necessary thing in the world to lift him high and spin him around -- 

"Oh! I'm too big for this!" 

"Are you *sure*?" 

"*Bruce*!" 

Bruce smiles and sets Dick down on his feet -- 

And Dick immediately spins himself like a *top* before running back to -- his other family. 

Bruce stops three paces from them. "All of you are quite welcome inside --" 

Emma stops pinching Dick's cheeks for a moment to giggle. "We've *got* to hit the road, Bruce, but thank you." 

Annie ruffles Dick's hair. "Give us some time to say goodbye to Dickie?" 

Bruce inclines his head. "I'll be in the gym, Dick." 

"Okay!" 

Bruce walks inside and heads upstairs immediately. There is a tray of what seems to be iced tea on the table -- and Alfred is standing nearly at attention. 

Yeah, now. 

Bruce nods, and stops behind his usual chair, gripping the back of it lightly and -- no, not easily. 

And Alfred turns to look at him with something very much like sorrow in his eyes. 

"Alfred --" 

"It was... too much?" 

Bruce closes his eyes -- no, not that, either. "Eventually, yes." 

"He has only been in our home for --" Alfred inhales sharply and shakes his head once. 

"I... Alfred, I can only apologize to *him*, and -- " 

"He will not accept such things. Not... at this time. I am aware of this, Master Bruce," Alfred says, and brushes invisible dust from his gloves before looking up once more. "How many secrets will you ask me to keep, sir?" 

Oh -- damn. 

Bruce winces. "I --" 

"Did not consider that...?" 

"Not... as deeply as I should have, Alfred." 

Alfred's smile is quietly fond. "Or at all...?" 

Bruce grips the back of the chair more firmly. "I'm --" 

"No, Master Bruce. I will not accept your apology, either." 

"But --" 

Alfred holds up one finger and raises his left eyebrow.

Bruce winces again and nods, standing straight. 

Alfred nods. "You have no intention of... ceasing." 

"Only... only if he needs me to. Or wishes me to." 

"Then there can be no apology," but Alfred searches him again. 

"Please, ask." 

"I fear... do you truly believe you will be able to stop when the time comes?" 

Bruce takes a deep breath -- 

And thinks about the amount of time he's spent on the roof of the theater opposite to Harvey's apartment. The amount of time and *self* spent -- 

No more, Brucie. 

No more. 

"Sir..." 

"I will be able to stop... though my time of mourning may prove excessive." Bruce smiles ruefully and meets Alfred's eyes. "But only if Dick wishes to leave, as well." 

Alfred raises both eyebrows. "I believe I need you to share with me the definition of 'excessive.'" 

"I used to watch Harvey with Gilda --" 

"*Sir*!"

"Yes. I don't... do that anymore." 

In the past few *days* -- 

"I should hope *not*!" 

"It eased something in me --" Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "I understand now that it was wrong, and I will never... I will never steal from Dick in that way." 

Alfred frowns. "Then... what?" 

"Depression. Maudlin speech and behavior. Moping -- grief, Alfred. Losing Dick would be akin to losing a limb. I love him with all of myself. I have never -- there has never been *agreement* like this." 

Alfred lifts one hand to his face -- he stops and folds his hands in front of himself once more. "And other young men, sir?" 

"There are none --" 

There will be. 

But -- 

It -- you know how this *works*, Bruce. 

*Mother* never approached other male children.

*Mom* is a special case. And -- we don't know *what* she'll do if she ever gets a boyfriend. 

Bruce shudders -- 

"There is... conflict within you for that question, sir?" 

Bruce frowns. "The Fox believes there will be others. I... I can't imagine such a thing." 

Alfred nods slowly and judiciously. "I believe, for this, I must listen to the Fox --" 

"*Alfred* --" 

"If only to spare myself from terrible surprise and disappointment." 

Bruce winces once more. "I am. I do not feel weak when I am with him. I do not feel... I don't feel lost to anything save love." 

Alfred smiles once more and moves close, stroking Bruce's shoulder before squeezing it firmly. "Do you understand why that does not, truly, matter?" 

Bruce feels stubbornness deepening the lines on his forehead -- 

Bruce. 

Fox -- 

Bruce. We can't -- we can't excuse this. Even with love. 

Why -- 

You know why. Deep down where Mom *can't* touch you. Deep down where you don't like to go... because you love to be in love. 

Bruce reaches within himself -- 

And sees himself as a boy, a *lonely* boy who wants friends, and a life outside of the manor -- 

A *way* to reach beyond -- 

Mother. 

Bruce swallows. And that is the place... where you find that which will drive me to other young men. And... women? 

Boys and girls. Brucie... 

Yes. Yes, I was speaking euphemistically, and -- you're right that I can't do that. Not ever again. 

I wish. I wish it was still safe to protect you. 

Bruce closes his eyes and smiles. As do I, brother. I -- no. He opens himself to the outside world again. "Alfred, I... I feel weak when I find myself attempting to justify my actions, and using euphemisms..." Bruce closes his eyes. "I find myself wishing for the ability to pray." 

"Sir..." 

Bruce covers Alfred's hand on his shoulder. "I do not -- I neither need nor require your sympathy, Alfred. I am, in many ways, far more mature -- and *myself* -- than I have ever been. I have spent my life hiding from... from many salient *facts*. I will not do that ever again... though I must confess that I would not be able to make that promise without the Fox to guide me --" 

"You *are* the Fox!" 

"And the Fox is *me*, yes. But it does not feel that way, Alfred. Not ever. The closest we come to being one man is when... when we are making love." 

Alfred tightens his hand convulsively before tugging it away again. "To Master Dick." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "And to Lex." 

Alfred closes his eyes and yanks down incrementally on his perfectly-situated jacket. When he opens his eyes again, the sorrow is blatant and undeniable. "You will never... seek help. Will you, sir?" 

"I promised to do so if I lost the ability to function as I must --" 

"You have begun a sexual relationship with a thirteen-year-old boy, sir. What definition of malfunction do you *require*?" 

"Something at least one part of myself could deem abusive. Something which doesn't bring joy, and sweetness..." Bruce stares at his hands -- no. He looks up to meet Alfred's eyes once more. "I cannot and will not ever ask you to understand, and I *am* aware that there is a fundamental problem with my relationship with Dick, and that that problem is the fact that he is a boy, and not a man." 

"But...?" 

"I am in love, Alfred. And I believe... I believe that I am still capable of making that emotion -- and its attendant acts -- more positive than negative. Far more. I believe I have made Dick happy at the worst and lowest part of his life, and I believe I will be able to continue to do so. I believe... I believe I am a good man." 

"Oh, sir. That... that was never in doubt." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- no. He knows. "You have every reason to doubt my sanity. But I hope... I hope you understand that I would never harm someone I cared for." 

"I worry... I *must* worry about your control, sir. And about your ability to understand yourself." 

Bruce smiles wryly. "Understandable. But... there is only one part of my mind which is still closed to me now. And even that will not stand." 

"You understand the origin of your perversions, sir...?" 

"All too well, Alfred. I wanted --" 

Bruce, *brace*!

Fox, what -- 

_And he is small, small and small, and the house is the biggest house in the world -- it must be!_

_And Father is so far away --_

_But Mother is always close, Mother loves him, Mother --_

_Mother is holding him as he dozes -- that's the word for sleep-not-sleep, and he will remember --_

_Mother is in her Foundation Clothes and her perfume is making him sleepier-happier-warmer --_

_Bruce wants to be in his pajamas, but it's not *time* yet --_

_He is between Mother's legs, and she squeezes him with her thighs every few moments and Bruce wants to do the same have the same they are *warm*!_

_On the chaise and that's a weird word not to have a 'z' --_

_In the li-bra-ry and that's a hard word for his mouth but it won't be forever that's what Mother says and Mother is always --_

_"I love you so *much*, Bruce..."_

_*Always*, and Bruce turns around so that he can rest his head against her bests --_

_*Breasts* --_

_Even though there's no *milk* anymore --_

_And Mother giggles! It's the best thing, the very best -- !_

_"Love, love, *love* my little boychik!"_

_Love is what happens between Adults and he's read that in books and Mother has read it to him *from* books -- "'m not a adult!"_

_"*An* adult. But you will be someday!"_

_Bruce nods and presses his face to her suit, glad he was careful not to get chocolate on his face --_

_Careful is *Better* --_

_And Mother *squeezes* him --_

_"I love you, Mother!"_

_She sighs and giggles --_

_She rocks him and sings the milk song, and Bruce can hum and nuzzle even though it's not time --_

_Won't *be* time --_

_"Oh, naughty, *naughty*..."_

_Wait. It. Something -- "Mother, does *Father* touch your bests -- *breasts*?"_

_And Mother is silent for a long, long time, but it's okay because she pets him, and squeezes him, and rocks him --_

_Bruce rests his head on softness, so --_

_She rocks him until he's dozing again, sleep-not-sleeping again and warm, so warm --_

_Always --_

_And Bruce closes his eyes and drifts, and sinks --_

It's not over. He knows it's not over -- 

*Brace* -- 

_"He *does* touch me, boychik. When I let him. When I'm lonely enough..."_

Oh. Oh, no -- 

I can't *stop* it, Brucie! You're *tearing* open the safe with your bare *hands* -- 

I -- I don't -- blame -- 

_"He touches me and he even *pleases* me. No proper gentleman could do less for his only beloved *wife*..."_

_She laughs then, tired and *old*, tired and --_

_Mother, Mother, no --_

_"I don't *want* him, boychik. I never, ever did. I didn't think I wanted *you*, either... but you're here, and you're perfect. You won't be *anything* like him, sweet boy. I'll make sure of it..."_

_And Bruce is whimpering, Bruce is --_

_The dream is so *dark* --_

_"Shh, shh, it's okay, boychik. He *touches* me. But it never feels the way it feels when you do. I love you so, so much..."_

_"M-Mother...?"_

_"You'll be big one day, boychik. Big and strong for Mother...?"_

_"Yes! Father says --"_

_And she puts her finger on his mouth. "No, no, no. No Father. Just us."_

_"Yes, Mother. Mother, I'm *sleepy*."_

_She smiles then, and it's strangely *loose*. Not... she doesn't seem to be holding her face the right way or --_

_He doesn't know, but he has to touch her cheek, and her forehead --_

_"Oh, boychik... go to sleep," and there *is* another smell other than the perfume and the mint on her breath --_

_Something in her mouth...?_

_"Sleep right here..."_

_Something --_

_He's so *sleepy* --_

_Black --_

And he's gasping and *shuddering* -- 

Alfred is *gripping* Bruce's shoulders and saying -- 

Something -- 

She was drunk as hell, Brucie -- 

Yes. I. Gin. When did she ever drink gin? 

Back then... probably whenever she got to thinking about sharing a bed with Dad... and not with you. 

Bruce groans -- 

"*Sir*!" 

"I... the last piece. It was... the last piece." 

"What are you *saying*, sir? You've been --" Alfred takes a shuddering breath and straightens his posture. "Are you all *right*?" 

Bruce rubs his temples. "I am... it was... one moment, please." 

Bruce...? 

Show me the... safe. 

Uh. I can show you *this*, and the Fox pulls aside the shadows of their bedroom to show... torn and smoky wisps of what had been there before. The lock is cracked down the middle -- 

And the wisps are disappearing as they watch. 

Bruce nods. And everything else? 

Part of you is rifling through your fantasies about Mom. 

That... makes sense. I feel incomplete. 

Yeah. I know. You need to be with someone who loves you the *right* way now. 

Bruce swallows and reaches -- 

And the Fox takes his hand and squeezes. I don't think I'm enough, Brucie. 

I think... I think I understand how that could be. 

Yeah. 

It frightens me, Fox. 

The Fox smiles wryly. I'm not goin' anywhere, Brucie. You never once attacked or tried to swallow me. 

I *won't* -- 

No, you won't. Because there's nothing... there's nothing left to ambush you. 

But... if there's another -- boy. 

Not 'young man.' 

And... the 'if' was a lie as well, Fox. 

I know. 

Bruce squeezes the Fox's hand hard -- 

And the Fox doesn't wince. You know yourself a lot better now. 

I -- I know. I am... broken inside. 

The Fox pulls him close, strokes Bruce's shaven cheeks with his rough hands -- 

And it brings Bruce back to himself with a shudder of image and memory and *fantasy* -- 

Mother -- 

Just me, Brucie. And the Fox kisses him soundly and deeply. He tastes like the faintly sweet chalkiness of his candy cigarettes -- 

He tastes like Dinah's pre-ejaculate -- 

He tastes like coffee and blood and *hunger* -- 

Bruce moans and sinks into it until he can no longer touch the scent of Chanel no. 22 -- 

And then the Fox pulls back with a smile, wiping the back of his mouth -- 

And offering his hand for Bruce to lick. 

Bruce kisses it, instead -- 

And the Fox snorts. Nice to meet you, too, brother. 

We have always been broken. 

Oh, yeah. 

We will always *be* broken. 

The Fox sighs and stretches. Probably. 

We live well. 

The Fox licks his *teeth* -- We always will. 

Always, yes. And now I must reassure Alfred. 

The Fox flips a candy cigarette out of his sleeve and throws himself back onto the bed. You know where I'll be. Always. 

Bruce hums and strokes the length of the Fox's thigh. Until later. When he rises again, he is seated at the table -- and Dick is on his lap, lean arms wrapped around Bruce's neck and cheek pressed to Bruce's own. 

Bruce wraps his arms around Dick and squeezes -- 

"Mmm -- *oh*. You're back?" 

"Yes," Bruce says, and kisses Dick's temple. "I'm sorry for my long absence." And Bruce looks up to find Alfred seated across the table and staring down at his folded hands. "Alfred..." 

"Sir." 

Bruce nods to himself. "While speaking to you, a part of me --" 

"The Fox, sir...?" 

"No, Alfred. And not a third alter, either. Simply... a part of me." 

Alfred looks up then and studies him for a long moment -- and nods. "Please, go on." 

"Yes. A part of me began attacking the locks and other protections surrounding one of my early memories of Mother. She... she was drunk that evening. You were still in England, and I am not sure where your father -- or my father -- were located." 

Dick frowns and rubs the back of his neck. "What did she *do*?" 

Bruce smiles and closes his eyes for a moment -- and then sits back enough to be able to look at both of them. "She told me secrets. She spoke of love, and loneliness. She spoke of her... distaste for Father's touch and her approval of my own --" 

Alfred makes a low sound of disgust -- 

And Dick hugs him tighter. 

"Yes, I believe... no. I understand, better, both of your reactions now. For all that I still... well," and Bruce strokes Dick's hair. "She never -- quite -- said that she would make love to me when I had achieved some measure of adulthood, but..." 

"She did not have to, Master Bruce...?" 

"Precisely, Alfred. In any event, to return to what we were discussing before --" 

Alfred raises a hand. "There is no need." 

"Alfred --" 

"There is. No. Need. Sir." 

Bruce frowns. "I -- as you say." 

"I will never fully understand --" Alfred cuts himself off with a sigh. "No, that is not the truth. I will never forgive myself for not at least attempting to bring my suspicions about your mother to your father -- do not *speak*, sir." 

Bruce nods once -- 

"I am reminded -- forcefully -- that there are things you would neither say nor do to any child. I am reminded that you... that you have always risen above those things which the world and all of its temptations have demanded that you be, and do." 

"I --" 

"Wait, please. I am reminded of the truth of *service*, Master Bruce. Of -- of devotion..." Alfred frowns for a long moment and then takes a breath -- and laughs softly. "I believe... I believe I am a much older man than I was two weeks ago, Master Bruce, but then... so are you. And so, of course, is Master Dick." 

Dick shivers in his arms and presses closer -- 

Bruce holds on. "We must, perhaps, strive to be wiser, as well." 

"Yes, sir, we must. And we must not... waver," Alfred says, and his eyes are distant and *wounded* for a long moment -- 

"Alfred --" 

Alfred holds up a hand -- and takes a deep, calming breath. "Drink your tea, sir and young sir. I will return with your snack soon enough." 

"I -- yes, Alfred." 

"Okay, Alfred. Or -- do you need help?"

Alfred smiles at Dick. "I may be older, Master Dick, but I am *not* yet *old*." 

Dick grins. "So the receding hairline is an illusion?" 

Alfred sniffs as though he has begun to weep, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve -- 

Which grows longer and more colorful by the foot. 

Dick giggles and claps -- 

And Alfred takes a bow as he leaves, trailing at least fifteen feet of 'handkerchiefs' behind him. 

Dick sighs. "Did he do stuff like that when *you* were a kid?" 

"Sometimes, yes. I could rarely simply enjoy it when it happened, as opposed to asking countless questions and then attempting -- badly -- to make the trick work myself. Alfred performing that trick for me ended with Alfred spending two solid hours detangling attempted slipknots from Father's neckties." 

"Oh. Um." 

"*All* of Father's neckties, save for the one he was wearing that day." 

Dick giggles again and bites his lip, eyes *sparkling*.

"Yes, Dick?" 

"*Can* you juggle? Or... do magic tricks?" 

Bruce nods. "Though I taught myself those things *mostly* to increase my manual dexterity and speed. Prestidigitation is, in general, very useful for my line of work." 

Dick shifts on his lap and raises his eyebrows. "*Our* line of work." 

Bruce smiles helplessly. "As you say. Did you have a good visit with your -- family?" 

"*Other* family," and Dick's expression is stern.

Bruce -- can do nothing but smile more broadly. "Yes. But...?" 

"Yeah, I did. Um. Are you really going to have sex with *Vonnie*? You know ze's --" 

Bruce covers Dick's mouth. "I'd prefer to be surprised... should it turn out that ze *is* interested in making love with me." 

Dick yanks Bruce's hand down. "Ze's interested, all right! Ze doesn't cuddle up to just *anyone*." 

Brucie, check -- 

Yes. "Dick. Are you... jealous?" 

Dick blushes. "I... maybe?" 

Bruce blinks. "Have you... felt this way about my other lovers?" 

"*No*! They're -- they're different." 

Bruce strokes Dick's cheek. "Would you tell me how?" 

"*You* know." 

You just -- yeah. Go ahead and look clueless. 

I feel eminently qualified to do just that -- 

"Oh, *Bruce*!"

"Yes, Dick?" 

"Let me talk to *Fox*!" 

The Fox rises and chucks Dick under the chin. "I have my suspicions, Dickie, but they're *only* that. This kinda thing -- it pays to be *clear*." 

"Because... because it's bad to be confused about the person you're in love with." 

"Uh, huh. Not too many things *worse* -- especially since it can get in the way of *both* of you getting what you want. And what you *need*." 

Dickie nods thoughtfully. "Has that... happened to you?" 

The Fox grins. "Lex could've had us *years* ago if *he'd* been less confusing." 

"Does *he* know that?" 

"Uh, huh. And it's a lesson I think he's learned for good and all. Now talk to me." 

"I -- okay. *I'm* your circus-lover. And I know that's silly, but --" 

"You think I could replace you, Dickie?" 

Dickie shifts again, bites his *lip* again -- 

"Dickie, talk to me." 

"I just. I mean --" Dickie slumps a little. "Devon is *interesting*. You want hir to *surprise* you. I couldn't surprise you if I jumped off the roof and landed on top of your damned *Rolls*." 

"Uh. You really could. By which I mean -- don't do it." 

"I *won't*. But --" 

"But you're worried that I'll wind up loving Devon more than you, because you're thinking ze's a lot more entertaining about being from the circus than you are. Yeah?" 

"Okay, that sounds *really* dumb --" 

"But it's true, isn't it?" 

Dickie blows out a breath. "I'm sorry --" 

"Dickie." 

"*Yes*. It's -- true." 

The Fox sighs. "Well, now I got something to work with. You ready?" 

"Yes, Fox --" 

"No. The answer is no, because, if I can help it, I'm not doing a *damned* thing to make you feel bad." 

"I don't feel *bad*, Fox. And -- and you should have anyone you want --" 

"And so should you. But..." The Fox grins. "What happens if I *say* someone you want is making me jealous?" 

"I -- like -- other superheroes?" 

The Fox shrugs. "They're *all* pervs in *one* way or another, Dickie." 

"Superman isn't -- I. Oh." And Dickie blushes. "You were *already* jealous of him over me. Weren't you?" 

"Uh, huh. Now, I plan on dealing with that sooner rather than later --" 

"Then I'll -- deal with my jealousy, too!" 

The Fox rubs the bridge of Dickie's nose -- 

"*Fox* --" 

"How's this: we give each other time." 

"Time?" 

"Time to be with each other -- and with the people who don't freak us out any. Time to get to know everything there *is* to know about each other. Time to love each other so much we can't help but feel it every *second* of every day." 

And Dickie's eyes are shining again -- 

And the Fox raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?" 

Dickie kisses him hard and fast, sucking the Fox's lips and humming before pulling back. "I love you, Fox! And Bruce, too!" 

"We love you more with every minute we know you, Dickie-bird. But it sounds good?" 

"Yes!" 

"All right, then. We'll just be *busy* while Haly's is in Philly... or I can tell Devon thanks, but no thanks?" 

Dickie... squirms a little. "I... the first one." 

"You sure?" 

Dickie pushes up on his knees -- on the arms of the Fox's chair -- and then sits back in a way that would make every single old injury in the Fox's legs scream at him. 

*Meanly*. The Fox strokes the inseam of Dickie's jeans. "Gonna give me an answer?" 

Dickie stares at the Fox's stroking hand -- and covers it with his own. "I'm sure. You're rich enough that we could go when they're *anywhere*. And -- you're *going* to convince me that I'm the best ever --" 

"You *are* --" 

"And then you can make love to *anyone* else. Heh. And when I'm bigger? I'll *join* you." 

Oh. My. 

Yeah. That -- 

The Fox *stares* at the beautiful boy -- 

The mind-*destroying* boy -- 

The boy currently looking down at the Fox's crotch *expectantly* -- 

"Harvey's pretty hot." 

"Monogamous." 

"*And* not into kids, I figured," and Dickie drags Bruce's hand closer to *his* crotch before looking up. "He's not all... WASP-y, either, right? I mean, Mom was, but she never *acted* like it." 

The Fox laughs and *tickles* Dickie's thighs -- 

Dickie giggles and *smacks* his hand -- "Answer *me*!" 

"He's part Native American -- though he's never let us find out more than that." 

Dickie frowns. "He doesn't want to know?" 

"Nope. Says his whole family is just failures and fuck-ups -- and he even used *that* word around *Brucie*, which he pretty much never does unless it's serious." 

Dickie nods thoughtfully. "Dad always said the family he left in the old country weren't worth *anything*." 

"The old country...?" 

Dickie smiles ruefully. "I really don't know. He promised he'd tell me all about it when I was older. I mean, I could tell that his accent was Eastern European, but no more than that -- especially since he would *change* his accent if he caught me paying too much attention to it." 

"Do *you* wanna know?" 

"Um." Dickie squeezes Bruce's hand. "Maybe someday? Or maybe not. I don't mind you looking it all up if *you're* interested, though." 

And Brucie is smiling inside him -- "Heh. Brucie just picked up a new project." 

"He's not allowed to have sex with my cousin! Or -- whoever." 

The Fox waggles his eyebrows -- 

"And you're not, *either*," Dickie says, giggling and smacking the back of the Fox's hand once, twice -- 

Six times -- 

On the tenth smack, the Fox uses *all* of his speed to catch Dickie's wrists and lift them up over his head -- 

"*Oh*!" 

"You know what we do to mean little boys around --" 

The intercom buzzes. 

Alfred did say he would be coming back soon. 

So he did, so he did. Glad discretion is still the better part of valor... around here. 

Hmm. 

And Dickie is staring at him with wide-eyed, open-mouthed *hunger* -- 

And Dickie's sweet little dickie twitches in his pants when the Fox narrows his eyes. Just -- mm. "Hold that thought, Dickie-bird." 

"Uh, huh." 

The Fox lifts Dickie off his lap and sets him on his feet -- 

And then Bruce rises and releases Dick's wrists and strokes his hair before moving to the intercom. "Sorry about the delay, Alfred. Did someone call?" 

"You -- and Master Dick -- have visitors in the study, sir." 

"Did Annie return?" 

"I'm afraid not. Your guests are the Drake family, who wish to tender their apologies for not returning your call sooner." 

"Hm. And they did so... by coming here directly." 

Alfred sniffs once. "Yes." 

Bruce hums. "Noted. Please tell them that I'll be down in a few minutes." 

"As you say, sir," and Alfred clicks off. 

Bruce moves back to the table and takes a sip of tea. "Dick, you need not join us --" 

"Oh, I'm coming. I wanna see if I can see what *you* see about them," Dick says, reaching into his shorts and doing something that makes him pale dramatically -- and soften. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "And that was?" 

"I just twisted my sac a little. You *have* to have tricks like that when you're working around kids a lot. And can't wear an armored jock," and Dick grins at him sharply. 

"Hm. As you say --" 

"But why did they come without being invited? Aren't they supposed to have more class than that?" 

"They truly are, which makes this curious. However, Janet Drake made something like the beginnings of a play to present herself as a family-minded woman after I showed myself to be someone who could tolerate -- and even enjoy -- the company of children. I strongly suspect that she's about to use her young son to attempt to get closer to me in the most abominable way possible." 

"Uh. You mean she's gonna pimp a three-year-old to you?" 

Bruce laughs softly and checks his hair in the mirror -- adequate. "Perhaps less abominable than that. Though I do wonder what she will do when Tim is *your* age. Shall we?" 

"I -- how should I act?" 

"Naturally. Though, for the time being, I must ask you to do your best to restrain your distaste. If you find that it's difficult to do, then simply offer to take Tim to see Alfred -- or your trailer. Does that suit?" 

Dick nods once and frowns. "You really think they're *awful*." 

"Yes, I do." 

"They seemed so... I don't know. *Not* normal, but not *horrible*. Just... rich and kinda clueless. WASP-y." 

"How much did you look at Janet's eyes?" 

"She was wearing sunglasses until it was time to take the picture. Pretty expensive ones." 

Bruce smiles and spreads his hands.

Dick smiles back. "Got it. Let's go." 

Bruce pauses them at the top of the stairs -- 

"Yeah, Bruce?" 

"You do realize that *I'm* a WASP." 

"I don't hold it against you? Much?" And Dick runs down the stairs at speed, giggling and generally being -- 

Incredibly fucking perfect? 

Yes. 

Bruce follows at a more decorous -- and far less enjoyable -- pace, and finds Dick re-introducing himself to the elder Drakes while Tim stares at him from a slight but noticeable distance away from his mother. 

He -- 

Keep it steady, Brucie. 

Yes. Bruce pulls on his most polite social smile and shakes Jack's and Janet's hands, mouthing words of surprised welcome while keeping Dick in his peripheral vision. 

Dick is crouching two paces away from Tim and reaching out in much the same way as Bruce had reached out to Benedict. Bruce keeps speaking, hoping to *distract* -- 

Tim takes a cautious step closer -- 

Dick smiles and Tim takes another -- 

And Janet sits down and *grips* Tim's shoulder. "*Tim*. Are you bothering Dick?" Her voice remains in the calm and 'sweet' range throughout -- 

And Dick is staring with horror, because Tim's expression changes to something hunted and haunted at once. 

Jesus -- 

Yes. Bruce uses his social laugh. "Dick rather misses the children he'd get to see every day in the circus, Janet." 

"Um. Yeah. I really do, Mrs. Drake. It's too *quiet* here." 

She smiles then. "Oh, you don't... of course you don't know," she says, laughing softly and releasing Tim's shoulder, before turning to face Bruce with a carefully rueful smile on her face and nothing but avidity in her eyes. "The reason why we didn't get back to you --" 

"Oh, Janet, are you sure we should tell Bruce *that*?" Jack's performance is far less smooth -- 

But Janet only pats his knee and continues to smile. "I think Bruce understands this sort of thing *very* well, Jack." 

Jack rubs at his mustache. His discomfort may or may *not* be feigned -- 

And it is Bruce's turn. "Haaa. You've got me *curious* now, Janet." 

Dick looks like he wants to *throw* something at him -- 

And Bruce sincerely wishes he had already taught Dick the simple gestures for silent communication. For now... 

For now, he allows himself to look somewhat dimly charmed, and waits. 

Janet doesn't work up a blush, but she looks down as if she has. This, Bruce knows, would be enough to fool any number of people. 

"You can tell me..." 

Janet sighs then -- and gives Tim what is almost certainly supposed to be a fondly exasperated look. "He's really been a *mess*, Bruce. I'll be honest, we couldn't do *anything* these past few days."

Tim doesn't look betrayed so much as... shamed. 

Dick growls and pulls him close -- 

"*Oh* -- I'm not -- I didn't --" 

"It's okay, Timmy. I cry all the time now," Dick says, and his voice is low and rough -- 

Tim shakes all over -- and clings. It's enough to allow Bruce to breathe, for all that Janet looks annoyed and Jack looks *chagrinned*. 

"In moments of tragedy," Bruce *tries*, "intimacy and human contact become even more important than they already were." 

"Well, of course, of course," Jack says, and rubs at his mustache again. "Still --" 

"He's been having nightmares," Janet says, and smooths her skirt. "Several every night." 

Tim tenses -- 

Dick hugs him more tightly. "Nightmares are *gonna* happen, Timmy. It's *normal*." 

"It truly is. We all witnessed something truly terrible --" 

"Where *did* you go, Bruce?" And Janet's gaze could very well belong to a bird, bright and, yes, *avid* -- 

Remind you of anyone, Brucie?

Mother makes for a much more fascinating bird -- 

Heh -- 

But I am not... unaware. And Bruce rubs his stomach through his t-shirt. "I'm afraid I left something of a mess outside the tent. My own dreams have been... difficult." 

Watch me not share them!

Thank you kindly, Fox. 

Uh, huh. Distract the Lizard Queen again. She's eyeing Tim hard enough that the kid's tensing. 

Yes. Bruce takes the chair that will force the Drakes to turn away from him if they wish to menace their son -- 

The Fox snorts somewhat *painfully* inside him -- 

And Jack gives him an affable smile. "How *have* things been going with you and Dick?" 

"As well as can be expected, I think. I... something just came to mind in terms of Tim's... problem..." Bruce makes a show of looking thoughtful -- 

And Janet leans forward eagerly. "Oh, yes?" 

Practically on cue, Tim giggles with quiet breathlessness -- Dick is whispering in his ear. 

And Bruce spreads his hands rather more lazily and calmly than he wishes to in order to draw the elder Drakes' eyes. "I was already wracking my brain about what to do to make sure Dick gets as much time with young people as possible." 

"And, of course, you can't just dump him in a playground while you're in your lab," Janet says and smiles at him. 

I'm thinking Tim would be vibrating less if *she* did that. 

Yes -- 

In a park full of dealers and pros. 

Fox. 

Am I *wrong*? 

Hm. "In any event, if you're amenable, I could always ask Dick --" 

"I've always wanted a little brother," Dick says, smiling into Tim's wide eyes before giving Bruce a look which is both quirked and hopeful. 

He's been following every second of this, Brucie. 

Yes. And -- he knows we wish to save Tim. 

*And* he approves. 

Bruce offers Dick a smile suited to the Drakes' presence -- and watches him read the true one in his eyes and nod. Bruce turns back to the elder Drakes and folds his hands together. "It could, I think, do Tim some good to witness... hmm... life going on, perhaps?" 

Janet's smile may even be real. "Nothing lasts forever." 

"Not even nightmares, Janet. What do you say?" 

She narrows her eyes... and turns to Tim. "Would you like to spend more time with Dick, Tim?" 

Tim stiffens and unwraps his arms from around Dick's neck. "I -- I. He's very nice, Mother --" 

"Tim, darling, that wasn't my question." 

The *strain* on Tim's face -- 

He doesn't know what the 'right' answer is. 

No, he does not. And I'm willing to wager that Janet is berating herself for not expecting me to make the offer so soon -- and thus not drilling the boy. 

Uh, huh. 

Bruce drops his hand so that it won't be visible to the elder Drakes and gestures 'continue' to Dick -- 

Who nods and cups Tim's face. "Hey, I still have to show you all my tricks! And maybe teach you a few?" 

The strain passes from Tim's face immediately, and he smiles precisely like a toddler offered something much desired. "Yes. Yes I would like that. Dick. I mean --" Tim turns. "I would like to spend more time with Dick, Mother. If it is all right and there is time." 

That affect -- 

Still far too flat. 

Dickie will beat that out of him, given time --

Let's make sure he has it. Bruce smiles warmly and raises his eyebrows. 

And Janet lifts her chin. "All right. We can give this a try. But Bruce, you simply *must* tell us if Tim is ever a bother. He's very good about not making messes, but, well... he is very young." 

"Haaa. Weren't we all, once upon a time?" 

Jack nods and chuckles. 

Janet... continues to smile. 

The Fox wants to *snarl* -- but Bruce can hold that back. 

"Hey, Bruce, can I show Tim my parents' trailer?" 

Bruce looks a question at the Drakes -- 

"Oh, I don't see why not! Tim loved all that circus stuff," and Jack chuckles again. 

Circus... stuff. I think I wanna hit him. 

Bruce checks -- Dick has tensed visibly. I believe Dick would like to help you, Fox. 

God, just -- 

But Tim begins patting somewhat frantically at Dick's face and shoulders, and -- 

Oh, God. Oh, God, it's *Cassandra* -- 

Bruce gestures Dick to calm, but he obviously can't understand -- 

And Janet narrows her eyes. "Tim." 

Tim freezes and drops his hands, balling them into fists. "I'm sorry, Mother. I just... got too excited again." 

"You're going to have to watch that if you want --" 

"Bruce, I'm gonna take Tim now, okay?" 

"Of course," Bruce says, and doesn't need to gesture for speed, at all -- Dick swings Tim up onto his hip and all but *runs* for the door. 

Jack chuckles *again*. "Excitable kid!" 

"At times, yes," and Bruce turns to Janet. "I wouldn't worry, Janet. Dick has been something like an unofficial older brother to any number of children over the years." 

"Including ones so young?" 

Bruce waves a hand. "Circuses are made for the young... and the young at heart." 

Janet raises an eyebrow. "Like you?" 

Bruce laughs. "Oh, Janet. I was just discussing the matter with Alfred, and we've agreed that we feel significantly older than we did... before we met Dick." 

*Janet* laughs, musical and sweet. "You aren't even *thirty*, Bruce!" 

"And *you'll* only be thirty-four this year, Janet. Don't go playing the age card with me, haaa." 

She flares her nostrils. "You've been doing your homework, I see." 

Bruce taps his temple. "I'm not *quite* as useless as I seem, I assure you." 

And then it's time for the wildly insincere mutual admiration which brings Bruce back to any number of objectively terrible Foundation events -- 

Mother -- 

I'm here, Brucie. 

Yes. And I will endure this for as long as possible in the hopes of Dick giving Tim a bare few *moments* to *relax* -- 

Jesus, yeah. 

And so Bruce gives them the tour as slowly as possible, pointing out objets d'art and offering their pedigree at length, along with personal stories of how they were acquired. 

When that's done, Alfred has prepared a tea for them -- and assures them that he had brought Dick and Tim food of their own to enjoy. 

Bruce eats and drinks slowly and copiously, asking as many questions as he can think of about Drake Industries until it's technically time for him and Dick to leave for their flight to Metropolis. 

He wants -- more time for Tim. 

Yeah, but -- 

There will *be* more time. 

Exactly. And maybe *I'll* find some reason for Tim to get taken *away* from these people. 

One does hope. 

Still, Bruce waits until Alfred walks past the door with his and Dick's suitcases in hand to offer his apologies and hopes that they will be able to do this again *soon*. 

The Drakes agree with warm eagerness for just that -- Jack is even entirely sincere about it, while dreams of, perhaps, increased influence and market share are enough to put a light in Janet's eyes -- and then it's time to retrieve the boys. 

Bruce makes a point of making a great deal of noise as they approach the trailer so that *neither* Dick nor Tim will be surprised -- 

And Dick runs out with a thrilled and somewhat mussed-looking Tim in tow. "Bruce! Tim did a somersault!" 

This, perhaps, explains the small bruise on Tim's forehead. 

Heh. We had a bruise *right* there for *weeks* while we were learning to tumble. 

Perhaps we should have started... younger. 

Uh. 

I was mostly kidding. 

Uh. 

Mostly. And Bruce ruffles Dick's hair. "I believe you should wait before introducing Tim to the trapeze, Dick." 

Dick snickers. "*I* was three when *I* started flying, Bruce." 

And Tim squeezes Dick's hand. "I'm sorry you can't fly anymore, Dick." 

"Oh, I'll find -- um." Dick blushes a little, but recovers with a rueful smile. "*Never* count a Flying Grayson out, Timmy." 

Tim smiles worshipfully -- and hugs Dick's arm. 

"Hey, almost!" And Dick unwraps Tim and hugs him properly. 

Tim still tenses for it... but only for a moment before he's humming and stroking Dick's back. 

Jack chuckles again. "You're gonna turn my boy into a regular little hug-monster, Dickie." 

Janet smiles. "I'm sure he'll behave appropriately." 

And Tim tenses again -- 

Dick growls quite loudly and tightens his grip on Tim. "There's *nothing* wrong with hugs, Mrs. Drake." 

Janet narrows her eyes -- but only for a moment, and she never actually looks at Dick before saying, "I'm sure you're right. Still, it's time to go."

Tim *pats* Dick's back like an older man and pulls away. "Yes, Mother. Goodbye, Dick. I will see you another time." 

"Soon, right?" And Dick looks to *him* -- 

"As soon as possible." 

Jack opens his mouth -- 

And Bruce smiles. "I'll call as soon as I'm back in town, of course." 

"You do that," Janet says, and takes Tim's hand. "Come along, Tim. We don't want Dick and Bruce to miss their flight." 

"Yes, Mother. Thank you, and thank both of you." And Tim gives *him* a look of wide-eyed curiosity. 

We're an unknown commodity, Brucie. 

For now. Bruce drops into a crouch and offers Tim his hand. 

Tim takes it -- 

And Bruce shakes it carefully. "You're quite welcome, Tim. Any time, at all." 

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." 

"Do call me Bruce." 

Tim bites his lip -- 

Stops and tenses -- 

And nods in much the same way a soldier would offer a salute. "All right, Bruce. I will." And then he looks to Janet -- 

Who offers her hand and a smile that makes Tim smile cautiously as he reaches to take it. "You did very well today, Tim." 

"Thank you, Mother. I will try to do better the next time." 

"Of course you will," she says, and turns to Jack, who has his hands in his pockets and is whistling Wagner to himself. "Shall we, Jack?" 

"Mm...? Oh, let's. Talk to you soon, Bruce!" 

Bruce waves and smiles, watching them walk to their rather conservative Mercedes. 

Dick slips his hand into his own. "What are we gonna *do*?" And his voice is a passionate whisper. 

"The Fox is going to bug their home. Thoroughly." 

Hell, yeah! 

"And then... then we shall see." 

Dick squeezes his hand. "I like him." 

"He seems a good, intelligent boy." 

"He's *super*-smart, Bruce. And sweet, too." 

Janet doesn't let go of Tim until he slips into the backseat. She also doesn't turn to look at him before closing his door. 

Bruce shakes his head once. "We will find a way." 

"Yeah, I. Is he... I mean, we wouldn't be able to tell *him* the secret... um." 

"You'd prefer it if he... stayed close." 

"He *needs* us. Both of *you*, too, because you understand how all the psych stuff works." 

Bruce nods. "I will consider the matter deeply. My only reservation is that it may not be fair to ask a child that young to keep such an important secret." 

"*I* think he'd be fine," Dick says, and starts tugging Bruce toward the door as soon as Jack drives off. 

Bruce follows. "Oh...?" 

"I can *always* get kids to tell me secrets -- *especially* when they're that young -- and I couldn't get him to tell me word one about his parents." Dick makes a face. "Not that he *had* to." 

"Hm. Did you try sharing what you already know?" 

Dick gives him a look which strongly suggests that Bruce is being a fool. 

"I take it that that was painfully obvious." 

"*Yes*. Seriously, it's the best *way* to get someone to open up. If they think you already know everything -- *poof*." And Dick mimes an explosion with one hand. 

Bruce hums and allows Dick to lead them to the bathroom. "There was no... poof?" 

"*Total* absence of poof. He clammed up tighter and tighter for a while... and *then* started looking for ways to change the subject. Pretty good ways, too. He's too obviously tense for now, but I think he'll probably be a pretty good liar when he grows up." Dick frowns thoughtfully and opens his pants. "I think that's probably why he threw me so much *before*." 

Bruce splashes his face. "It was hard for me to come to terms with the idea that proper heroism in the world we lived in necessitated an ability to lie even to wonderful people. In many ways, I still haven't." 

Dick snorts and takes himself out to urinate. "Well, *yeah*. You're *way* too easy." 

"Should I have denied you my secrets, Dick...?" 

"*Yes*. I'm a *kid*. And -- you didn't know how I would deal with My Tragedy," and Dick intones the last two words. "*Lots* of kids do crazy and *destructive* things when they're hurt." 

"Very true, but I knew *you* wouldn't." 

"*How*?" 

The Fox grins and reaches between Dickie's legs to *cup* his little sac -- 

"Oh! Fox?" 

"Uh, huh. Not that we can get too exciting right *now*... but we're gonna be *alone* on that plane." 

"Um. Um. The *pilot* --" 

"Soundproofed door, Dickie-bird," and the Fox gives him a tickle -- 

"Ee -- I have to finish *peeing*!" 

"Go ahead." 

Dickie blushes like *fire* -- 

And the Fox doesn't lick his cheek. Much. 

"*Fox*!" 

"Heh. I knew *you*, Dickie-bird. I could feel you *all* through me. And we tend to have *good* taste in people we fall in love with." 

"But --" 

"Not the thing to hang a life on, maybe... but we knew we would *make* you ours. In every way we could." 

Dick shivers and shakes himself off. "You weren't even going to make *love* to me." 

"No, Dickie. We were gonna *wait*. And while we *would've* waited forever... heh. We definitely didn't plan on it." 

"*Oh*. Oh, that's. Kinda dirty." 

The Fox grins a little wider and engulfs Dickie's hand and penis in his free hand. And *squeezes* Dickie's sac with the other. 

"F-Fox --" 

"Dirtier than this?" 

"Ohn -- I'm gonna get hard *really* fast --" 

Fox. 

The Fox growls and pulls back -- 

"Oh, *Fox* --" 

"Later...?" 

Dickie grins. "Not *too* much later." 

The Fox licks his teeth. "What do you need to be ready?" 

"Um. Maybe a cock ring? Wait, *do* those keep you from getting hard?" 

"Really *not*, Dickie. They just keep you from coming too fast." 

"And -- that makes coming more... intense?" 

"It can for *lots* of men. Shift over a little." 

Dickie switches places with him, going to wash his hands after tucking himself away -- 

And the Fox takes a nice, leisurely piss without paying one *lick* of attention to the gorgeous, curious, sexy, *fabulous* boy staring at his dick from right. Fucking. There. 

It's incredible how little attention you're paying. 

I've got. Uh. Control? 

Yes, nearly five percent of our mind is focused on something other than Dick's posterior. 

The Fox snickers, inside and out, and holds his dick to keep from making a *mess* when it twitches. 

"What is it, Fox?" 

"Brucie is making fun of us for how much we're thinking about fucking you. Which is a *lot*." 

Dickie licks his lips and narrows his eyes -- and then *squeaks* and jumps a little. "Oh -- I've gotta learn how to see those *coming*." 

The Fox shakes himself off. "You just clenched?" 

"I -- guess you could tell," and Dickie smiles ruefully and turns the water back on for him. 

"Uh, huh. And thank you. Most people aren't gonna immediately think 'yeah, that kid has been fucked up the ass *real* recently,' but..." 

"Some people will," and Dickie nods. "I'll do better." 

"Heh. *Don't* sound like little Timmy over there. *Please*." 

Dickie frowns. "You don't like him?" 

"I like him fine, though mostly I want to save him. The one thing that really *gets* to me, though..." The Fox shakes his head and moves to dry his hands. "He reads like poor little Cassandra in some ways. That thing he was doing to make you calm down?" 

"Oh -- the patting? *That's* what he wanted?" 

"Yep. Because he could tell that you were pissed-off and tensed-up, and he *knew* that would get his mother pissy." 

Dick glares at the floor. "I -- I wanted to *hit* her. And her husband for not *doing* anything." 

"He *was* kind of useless, wasn't he?" The Fox sighs and straightens the towel. "Let's hit it." 

"Is Alfred driving us?" 

"Yep. And, knowing him, he's been waiting for us for a *while*." 

"Oh --" Dick grabs the Fox's hand and does his best to drag him along at speed. 

"Okay, okay, we *can* run for it." 

And that's exactly what they do -- rushing even as they dress in their traveling clothes -- which is why Alfred *sniffs* at them when they make it to the garage. 

Dickie comes to kind of a *screeching* halt -- "Um. We just didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, Alfred!" 

Alfred raises his eyebrows. "The desire to run about like maniacs had nothing whatsoever to do with it...?" 

Dickie's grin is sly as he lifts his right hand. "Scout's honor?" 

Alfred raises his eyebrows *higher* -- 

And Dickie's giggle is bright and high and absolutely perfect -- 

In every way, Fox. 

*Yes* -- 

And Alfred is twinkling at Dickie as he fixes Dickie's hair. "The pilot has already been waiting for twenty minutes, sirs. *Do* let us be off." 

Bruce rises and inclines his head. "As you say." 

Dick spends much of the drive talking to Alfred about different foods he had eaten all over the country and in Canada and Mexico, and which ones were his favorites. 

Bruce is somewhat afraid of the prospect of poutine -- he suspects Alfred is, as well -- but he promises himself that he'll try everything at least once -- 

We *gotta* be adventurous, Brucie. 

If not quite ever as *fearless* as Dick. 

Uh, huh. 

Bruce takes Dick's hand in his own for the rest of the drive -- 

And Dick is somewhat shocked by Alfred driving onto the tarmac and close to the actual jet. Dick has not been to an airport since he was 'a little kid' -- an abortive trip to visit his mother's family before what seems to have been a mutual cutting-off of ties -- and has never been to a *private* airstrip. 

"I can't believe you own a *plane*!" 

Bruce smiles and strokes Dick's hair. "Technically, it belongs to Father... but he almost never uses it. I believe he regrets the purchase of it rather a lot." 

"Well... if *you* use it then at least it's not just *sitting* there, right?" 

"Just so. And the pilots we keep on retainer makes somewhat more money." 

Dick nods and insists on taking his suitcase from Alfred before hugging him and running up the stairs into the airplane. Bruce smiles and takes his own suitcase. "Thank you, Alfred." 

"You are *quite* welcome, sir. Do call when you know more about your schedule." 

"As you say." 

Alfred folds his hands behind his back and watches Bruce jog up the stairs -- 

And then he gets back in the car and drives away, leaving them... 

Not free. We *can't* be more free than we are at home, Alfred or no Alfred. 

True, but... 

It feels that way.

Yes, Fox, it does. 

Bruce nods to Dick -- who is exploring the interior of the jet with a curiosity that makes Bruce *ache* -- and then checks on the pilot. It's Miranda today, and telling her that Dick requires absolute privacy feels both necessary and inescapably low. 

Miranda promises a smooth, quiet flight and to use the intercom only if necessary, and Bruce thanks her for it. And returns to find Dick kneeling on the couch with his eyebrows up. 

"Yes," Bruce says, smiling and forcing himself to wait for the cockpit door to *click* shut before he opens his tie and removes his jacket -- 

It takes seemingly *seconds* before Dick is naked -- "Come on, come *on*, Bruce!" 

"You're tempting me to take this... slowly." 

Dick looks *horrified* -- 

And Bruce laughs softly. "Or perhaps not," he says, and undresses faster. Naked, he feels overly large and demanding, hungry and perhaps somewhat *wild* -- 

"Hey, folks! We're all fueled up and have the all-clear, so buckle up!" 

Dick whines -- 

Bruce pushes two fingers into his mouth and clicks the intercom. "Thank you, Miranda." 

"You're welcome!" 

Bruce toggles the intercom off and raises an eyebrow at Dick, who is holding his mouth *ready* for a vicious bite. "Trust me," he says, and begins thrusting into Dick's mouth slowly -- and with some force. 

Dick's eyes widen immediately -- 

Dramatically -- 

"Beautiful boy. I feel I have waited an eternity. I feel... I believe I must have desired you years before I ever saw your face..." 

Dick moans and whimpers, sucking hard -- 

The engines begin cycling up -- 

And Bruce pulls out, sitting and arranging Dick on his lap -- 

"Oh -- *between* --" 

"Yes," and Bruce loosens the belt until it can fit over both of them -- 

"This -- is this *safe*?" 

"I would not do it were the weather not clear or the pilot not experienced --" 

"So, *no*?" 

Bruce laughs softly and kisses the back of Dick's neck. "Hold on tightly." 

Dick raises his arms and wraps them around Bruce's neck. "Like *this*?" 

"It is... an excellent start," Bruce says, and drags his short fingernails up either side of Dick's abdomen and chest -- 

Dick shivers -- 

The jet lurches -- 

"Oh --" 

And they begin to accelerate. Bruce leans over and opens the shade over the window. "Feel free to watch --" 

"Nnh -- Bruce, I don't *care*!" 

Bruce takes a breath -- and closes the shade once more. "Then focus only on what we do, on what I make you *feel*." 

Dick moans and wriggles, trying to rub his cleft against Bruce's penis -- 

"Be still." 

"But -- *oh* --" 

Bruce releases the bite to the back of Dick's neck slowly. "You'll have time to move later, Dick. For now... be still." 

Dick swallows audibly and nods. "Just -- do something?" 

Bruce smiles and scratches up the length of Dick's thighs. "Something...?" 

Dick shivers. "*Bruce*. I've been hard since the *bathroom*!" 

"Your control moves as much as any other aspect of your personality, of course... and I'm going to make you wait just a little longer," Bruce says, spreading Dick's thighs over his own -- 

"*Please* --!" 

\-- and tugging firmly on his scrotum.

Dick cries out sharply, slapping his hands down on his thighs -- 

"Good boy. Beautiful..." Bruce licks the back of Dick's neck and cups his small pectoral muscles -- 

"Bruce -- *Bruce* --" 

Bruce eases the pinch for his nipples before adding a twist -- 

"Oh, *yes*!" 

"You enjoy that." 

"Yes, yes -- how long do you *want* me to last?" 

"Five minutes only. You intrigued us with your questions about orgasm denial devices." 

Dick snickers breathlessly. "Just call them cock rings!" 

"There are more devices than those in the world." 

"Oh. I. *Really*?" 

Bruce laughs again. "For women as well as men. Perhaps I'll make one -- for me, not you." 

"Oh, but -- you can *already* not come for -- for a *while*!" 

"Not while being stimulated," and Bruce twists Dick's nipples again -- 

"*Mmm* -- I. You mean... if I was sucking you --" 

"I want that." 

"Oh. I -- tonight?" 

"Perhaps. Lean back?" 

"Okay, Bruce," and Dick rests his head against Bruce's shoulder, reaching back to cup and scratch at Bruce's face -- 

"Should I have shaved again?" 

"Yeees? I don't know! What does *Lex* like?" 

"It seems to depend on his mood," and Bruce turns to kiss Dick's temple. "Is your navel sensitive?" 

"I don't really -- oh -- ooh." 

Bruce hums and tugs at the folded flesh -- 

"That feels. That feels kinda... squirmy." 

"Pleasurable?" 

"Um. Um. I think I'd like other things more. Or -- I *know* I would." 

Bruce *licks* Dick's temple. "I want the taste of you with me *always*." 

Dick moans. "You can *have* it --" 

"Thank you," Bruce says, and they lift off -- 

Dick gasps -- "Oh, that feels *weird* when you're hard!" 

"Agreed," and Bruce cups Dick's scrotum, massaging it gently -- 

"Nnh -- oh -- *Bruce*." 

"Yes...?" 

"I want -- I want more than this!" 

"Do you want... pain?" 

Dick shivers. "Do *you* wanna hurt me?" 

"I want to hear you scream your pleasure. Repeatedly, if at all possible." 

"Then. Then -- squeeze there. Maybe. A few times -- *ohn* -- oh, Bruce --" 

"This firmness." 

"That -- that -- your *hand*," and Dick rolls his head on Bruce's shoulder and wriggles -- 

"Be still." 

Dick moans. "It's so -- it's so *hard*, Bruce!" 

"At this moment, I am nestled between your cheeks in just the right way to tease myself with the swelling around your anus."

"*Oh* --" 

"If you move... it won't be the same." 

"Oh, Bruce, okay, okay -- I want you to fuck me again!" 

"I cannot," and Bruce licks Dick's ear and then breathes warm against it -- 

"Oh -- oh, that feels -- um."

Bruce hums. "Do you like it...?" 

"It makes me want to bend *over* something -- oh, you *twitched* --" 

"Yes. I want you very badly." 

"Anything! *Anything*!" 

"I will not tear you. That will only take pleasure from both of us." 

Dick whimpers. "How long will it take for me to stop being *swollen*?" 

"You could be ready for more as soon as tomorrow, though it could take as much as three days." 

"Oh, I don't wanna *wait*, you felt so *good* -- *enh* --" 

Bruce stabs Dick's ear with his tongue in the precise opposite rhythm to what he's using for Dick's scrotum -- 

And Dick begins to shake in less than a minute. He -- 

"It's even harder for you not to move." 

Dick gasps and nods -- 

"No, give me your voice, please." 

"Bruce. It -- I want." 

"Tell me, beautiful boy, beloved -- Dick." 

Dick groans and *stops* rolling his hips -- "I'm sorry, is it -- is it still okay?" 

"A moment," and Bruce shifts slightly and moves Dick just so -- and sighs for the feel of Dick's anus dragging against the head of his penis -- 

Dick whimpers and moans -- 

"Beautiful. Almost." 

"Almost -- almost *what*?" 

"We'll be leveling off at cruising altitude soon... and then we can *both* move." 

"Oh -- I want -- I want to *taste* you --" 

"Then that's what you will have... after you scream." 

"For you. After I scream for *you*." 

Bruce rumbles somewhat helplessly and lifts Dick's arms, gripping his wrists -- 

"*Please* tie me up sometime?" 

"Yes." 

"And. And spank me?" 

Bruce grunts and *thrusts* --

"Oh, God, I -- I didn't even know if I really *wanted* that, but --" 

"Nothing. *Nothing* you don't desire --" 

"But Bruce, you'll get so turned on that you'll *make* me want it -- I wish you were *inside* me --" 

"As soon -- as soon as it is possible," and Bruce cups Dick's penis and squeezes -- 

"*Bruce*!" 

"Try... try to keep yourself from ejaculating." 

"Or *moving*?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "Consider it... an exercise in control." 

Dick *gasps* a laugh. "I -- okay, you're totally -- totally allowed to make training fun -- nn -- *oh* --" 

"Good boy. Louder." 

"Oh -- *ohn* --" 

"Your voice... I am in love with that, as well." 

"I could -- speak with accent, yes?" 

Bruce laughs more --"Dick." 

"Just -- just *checking* -- ooh --" 

"Shall I... rub the head more?" 

Dick bites his lip and nods -- 

"No, Dick --" 

"*Please* -- oh -- I'm *used* to being quiet --" 

"Not for me. Not --" 

There *will* be times when we *need* him to be quiet -- 

Not yet, Fox. Not -- 

God, I know, fuck -- bite him --

Bruce scrapes his teeth against the apex of Dick's spine and then bites the side of his throat -- 

"Oh, Bruce --!"

*Again* -- 

Bruce bites the other side of Dick's throat, forcing himself to do it *lightly* -- 

And Dick is shuddering far more than he's shaking now, wracked with *tense* pleasure -- 

Bruce strokes faster and releases Dick's wrists, instead moving back and forth between Dick's nipples, twisting and *pinching* -- 

And Dick begins to cry out, sharp and loud and utterly arrhythmic -- 

He's close, Brucie -- 

*Yes* -- "Dick. Remember to *scream*." 

Dick nods frantically and beats at his thighs with his fists -- but Bruce can't bring himself to stop him. He is, already, asking for -- 

"All clear, guys!" 

Bruce stops stroking Dick and covers his mouth --"Shh." 

Dick nods and whimpers, penis twitching over and over again -- 

And Bruce toggles the intercom. "Thank you, Miranda." 

"You're welcome!" 

He toggles it again and then unhooks their seatbelt before laying Dick out on his back. He keeps Dick's mouth covered for a moment -- 

Another -- 

No, Brucie, I *can't* -- 

Neither can I. Bruce moves his hands to Dick's nipples once more and then takes the whole of his penis into his mouth -- 

"*Ahn*!" 

He sucks as hard as he wishes, as hard as he *needs* -- 

And Dick immediately begins thrusting into Bruce's mouth, brutal and *starved* -- "Sorry, *sorry* --" 

Bruce shakes his head and licks, scrapes his teeth -- 

And Dick screams as he ejaculates, pulse after pulse, twitch after *twitch* -- 

Bruce restrains his own groans as much as he can in order to better hear Dick, to -- 

Oh, his cries are so *desperate* -- 

He likes that kind of treatment, Brucie. He -- 

Yes. Yes, he -- so beautiful -- 

So *perfect*. And the Fox is standing naked in the ballroom, which is empty of Mothers -- 

Where -- 

You chased them away. 

Oh -- 

I think they'll be back. For now, though... and the Fox begins to stroke himself, making himself harder and harder, erect enough to *ache* -- Take a look at yourself. 

Hm. 

Oh, Brucie. I love you *best*, sometimes. My turn...? 

Bruce gestures 'after you,' and -- 

The Fox rises, pulling off with the nastiest slurp he can manage -- 

Dickie *gurgles* for it -- 

"Has anyone told you lately that you're the best boy?" 

Dickie giggles and gasps -- 

Dickie croons and pulls his legs back to his chest just as easy -- 

Just as *sweet* -- 

Fox. 

Right, right. "Not that, Dickie-bird. Though... *would* my tongue be a tease?" 

Dickie clenches and grunts *and* squeaks -- 

"Heh. I need a more *verbal* answer --" 

"Yes! I mean -- *anything*. I mean --" 

"My *tongue*, Dickie. Yes or no?" 

Dickie moans and -- feels himself up. He -- 

He needs to be held, I believe. 

Ooh. I can *do* that. And the Fox sits up and gathers Dickie into his lap, kissing him softly over and over until Dickie starts to respond with a little more focus. 

"Mm, I -- Fox." 

"Uh, huh," and the Fox just *barely* presses his lips to Dickie's before stabbing in with his tongue a few times --

"*Mmm*," and Dickie cups the Fox's face and kisses him hard, licking into the Fox's mouth and -- playing a little. 

He did mention having kissed any number of young girls -- and perhaps young women. 

So he did, so he did. The Fox sits back and lets Dickie choose the kiss he wants to give. It involves a lot of tongue-teasing, a lot of *licking* -- 

Their mouths get *wet* -- 

And Dickie stops kissing and starts nuzzling, dragging his lips across the Fox's cheek -- 

"Watch for stubble-burn, Dickie." 

"Oh -- I don't *want* to -- but I have to." Dickie's sigh speaks *volumes* about the fundamental unfairness of the world as he pulls back enough for them to meet each other's eyes comfortably. "Part of me wants to tell the whole *world*, Fox." 

Oh... 

Yeah. Yeah, he -- the Fox shakes his head. "I know *exactly* what you mean, Dickie, but..." 

"I know, I know. And I never did confirm it to Annie even though she was putting on *ridiculous* amounts of pressure. I -- I hated lying to her, but it's better than her thinking those terrible things about you." 

"I think she's gonna do that anyway, Dickie-bird. And *some* of those things are true." 

"Not the *important* things! And -- and I know you're always gonna take care of me." 

"For just as long as you let us. You're the best thing that's ever happened to us -- and there have been a *lot* of good things just lately." 

"And a lot of bad, too! Like -- like your *mother*." 

The Fox sighs. "Yeah, that's -- well, that is what it is. Part of me -- let's call him Bruce -- is thinking that she can't be so bad, because she got us ready for *you*." 

"Oh -- *Bruce*!" 

Bruce rises and smiles ruefully. "I recognize the irrationality in that belief, Dick. Just the same... I love her still." 

Dick frowns. "She -- I think you could've *still* been ready for me if she hadn't *done* that to you. You'd still be good, and smart, and loving, and funny, and all of those other things!" 

"But I'd almost certainly never touch you this way, Dick. And that... it seems to me that that would've been a terrible loss." 

"Well -- *yes*, but -- I just don't think you should be so *grateful*." 

Bruce lifts Dick's hands between them and kisses the palms. "Perhaps not. I promise that I will keep those thoughts in mind." 

Dick nods. "Then -- okay. Give me Fox?" 

The Fox rises and bites Dickie's fingertips a little. "We *are* gonna try to be less crazy for you, Dickie-bird." 

"I know! And -- you're not *too* crazy. Though I'm even *more* worried about meeting your mother." 

"You'll never, ever be alone with her, and -- yeah. We're giving ourselves some time away, except for special occasions. Bruce agreed to keeping most of that -- stuff in his dreams." 

"What -- what are his dreams like?" 

"Desperate. Hungry. *Humid* is the word I used with him --" 

"You talk a lot?" 

"Oh, all the time. If you ever see us kind of zoned out, we're probably hashing something out. Or just spending time together." 

Dickie nods. "Good. You shouldn't be lonely." 

The Fox smiles and jerks his chin at Dickie. "Neither should you. But -- *do* you want to know more about the dreams? Brucie can't tell you. He *never* remembers his dreams unless I share them, and I *don't* unless it's necessary." 

"I just -- I don't want to take his secrets if he --" 

Bruce rises. "Everything I have, everything I *am*, is yours." 

Dick gasps -- and nods.

And the Fox rises again -- and raises his eyebrows. 

"Could you... I don't think I want to know details." 

"That's fine." 

"But... when he's dreaming about your mother..." Dickie frowns again and shakes his head. 

"Go on, Dickie. Get it out in the open." 

Dickie bites his lip. "Is it like... us? I -- you know what I mean." 

The Fox tickles Dickie's chin a little. "I do, yeah. And it's... superficially like this. But he's almost always *significantly* younger than he actually is -- her age changes all the time -- and... lonelier." 

"There's... no one else? Just him and her?" 

"Kinda? But not the way you're thinking. The Bruce he is in those dreams *couldn't* have anyone else, and the fact that pretty much no one would put up with a lover who was also fucking his mom is only a *small* part of that." 

"What's the rest?" 

The Fox blows out a breath. "He's not... *I'm* not in the dreams, Dickie. And that means he's *got* some of what it takes to *be* me -- or rather, be the whole person we were *supposed* to be -- but it also means that he's kind of hollow. Kind of... not right. All poetry and not *enough* passion. All brain and no heart -- except for the small and kinda *shriveled* one Mom built him to have." 

And that makes Dickie look *horrified*. "But -- they still -- make love?" 

"Oh, yeah. And it gets... pretty damned serious. There's hardly anything he hasn't tried with the Mom who lives in our backbrain. It's just... there aren't two people there. Not really. There isn't even *one* person there, and that will *never* stop being fucked." 

I wish. I wish I could let go of this... 

I know, brother. And that's -- well, that's a big step. 

Not big enough. 

Give it time. You know I'll be right here. 

Brother. 

And the Fox reaches out to hold Brucie close -- and refocuses on Dickie's *thoughtful* face. "Any question." 

"I know. I -- does he dream about me?" 

"Uh, huh." 

"Is he whole *then*?" 

The Fox waves a hand. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. His dreams are a dangerous, dark, and frightening place, Dickie. They do and they *don't* have anything to do with him." 

A *shrewd* look -- "What about... what about the people you are when you merge? Do the dreams have anything to do with *them*?" 

The Fox blinks. "Uh. You know, I don't actually know. I'd say... maybe. We're pretty much pure id when that happens *anyway*. As much as we're anything at *all*." 

Dickie grins. "That means no control?" 

"No shame and no *thought* mostly." The Fox bounces Dickie on his lap a little. "*You* like them pretty good." 

"Heh. My ass *really* likes them. And -- is kinda afraid of them. But in the good way." 

The Fox gets a nice double-handful of the ass in question, squeezes *hard* -- 

"Oh, *Fox* --" 

"You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, Dickie-bird. Whatcha gonna do for me?" 

"I -- went down on Vonnie's dildo sometimes." 

"Didja think about Big Blue when you did?" 

"And -- Ivo the strongman. Sometimes. That felt pretty dirty, though. I mean, he used to read me bedtime stories." 

The Fox snickers. "We know *nothing* about *that* kinda thing." 

Dickie makes a face -- 

The Fox *waggles* his eyebrows --

And Dickie blows a raspberry. "I don't know if you *deserve* a blowjob." 

Oh, my. 

God, *yes* -- "No...? You don't think I've been a good boy, Dickie?" 

"You're not a *boy*, Fox. You're a *man*. A -- bad man." 

The Fox shows his teeth. "Is that so...?" 

Dickie nods *primly*. "You... um... took me away from my *family*." 

Oh... my. 

Sweet Jesus -- "Well. I had to make you *mine*, Dickie." 

Dickie crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his glorious nose in the air. "No excuses!"

"But... I really *want* a blowjob, Dickie --" 

"You -- you should've *thought* of that." 

I believe this feeling is joy, Fox. 

Uh, huh. Let's try to stay *sober*. "You're right. You're *absolutely* right. And -- I'm sorry?" 

Dickie's shoulders shake with the laughter he isn't *quite* letting out. "*Prove* it." 

"Tell me how, Dickie. Pretty please?" 

Dickie bites his lip and edges back until there are a few more inches of space between them. "Jerk *off*." 

"Oh, yeah...?" 

"*Slow*. And -- um. Um. Tell me something *super* dirty that you wanna do with me." 

"Maybe... to you?" 

Dickie *pants*... and strokes his own thighs. "Maybe. Now *start*!" 

The Fox grins nice and wide, nice and *wet*... "Anything you say, Dickie-bird," and he *grips* himself -- 

"Harder than that!" 

I don't suppose we could make this flight... longer, somehow. 

Ah-ah-ah, we have a Lexie to pound through the mattress. 

Mm. You have a point. 

I *always* do, and the Fox tightens his grip until he has to *hiss* for it -- and then starts to stroke. 

Dickie stares at their cock like he wants to take it *with* him wherever he goes -- and licks his lips. "Well?" 

"You want... a fantasy." 

Dickie looks up and tightens his arms over his chest. "A *dirty* one." 

The question becomes -- 

What does *he* think is dirty, yeah. 

He mentioned -- 

The strongman, yeah. And -- 

A certain degree of... parenting.

The Fox shivers, inside and out. 

We need not -- 

We can... come at this from the side. And we can skip it for now, just in case it brings up bad -- 

"*Fox*!" 

"Just going through the fantasies looking for the dirtiest, Dickie-bird." 

Dickie shifts a little -- and reaches out to rub the head of the Fox's dick -- 

The Fox *grunts* for that -- 

"Oh, *Fox* -- come *on*!" 

"All right, Dickie. How's this: we've been working out for hours. Hours and *hours*." 

"I -- we're sweaty?" 

"*Slick* with sweat. And I throw you down to the mats -- hard enough to *sting*." 

Dickie opens his mouth -- and licks his lips. 

The Fox uses his free hand to press Dickie's fingers harder against the head -- 

"You won't... come too fast?" 

The Fox shakes his head and grins. "I'll tell you when it gets... heh. *Dire*." 

A *breathless* giggle -- 

Oh, tell him, Fox -- 

You peeked, Brucie...? 

Hmm. I'm a bad, bad man? 

The Fox grins wider -- 

"*More*, Fox!" 

"I lick you all over. Get you -- mm. Sticky and *hot*." 

"Oh. Um. My ass, too?" 

"Uh, huh. You're *salty* there. *Strong*." 

Dickie grunts and makes a *weird* face -- 

He is, I believe, trying to keep himself from... squeaking. 

Ooh. "Very, very *good*, Dickie --" 

"Just -- just tell me *more* --" 

"I *don't* get you off." 

"Oh -- then *what*?" 

The Fox licks his teeth. "I make you lick *me* -- but just my dick and sac." 

"Where you're -- um." 

"Salty, Dickie-bird. Nice and -- mm. Dirty." 

"How. What *else*?" 

The Fox narrows his eyes and drags the head of his dick over Dickie's fingers -- 

Dickie *moves* his hand -- 

"Aw --" 

"*More*, Fox!" 

"Heh. *Mean* little bird. Okay, I see how it is. I -- I grab you by the hair. I *pull* you in --" 

"You. You wouldn't *have* to --" 

"Oh, yeah, I really would." 

Dickie parts his lips. "Because. Because it turns you on." 

The Fox gives himself another squeeze. "For this fantasy? Hell, yeah." 

A *thoughtful* nod -- and Dickie's damned well getting hard again. 

Oh, yes... tell him - 

Uh, huh. "There are other fantasies --" 

"Tell me!" 

"Well, this one... it's all Brucie's." 

"Oh. But -- no, *you* tell me!" 

Be sure to be... detailed. 

You know it, brother. "Sure. He takes you to the opera." 

Dickie's confused frown is just -- 

Rather intensely adorable. 

"You, Dickie-bird, are as cute as a *button*." 

Dickie sticks his tongue out at him -- 

So the Fox *grips* the back of Dickie's head with his free hand and holds him still enough that he can *lick* Dickie's tongue --

And his lips -- 

And his cheeks -- 

"*Fox* --"

The Fox lets go and leans back, raising the hand he's not jerking off with and smiling. "Sorry...?" 

Dickie rubs at his cheeks. "You are *not*!" 

"Uh... I could act that way?" 

"And you'd be *lying*." And Dickie's smile is mean. "Just for that? You have to tell me *two* more fantasies before I go down on you." 

I wonder if he realizes that we would happily do just this for hours. 

Let's not tell him... yet. 

Hmm. As you say. 

Heh. "Aww, Dickie --" 

"No! What *about* the opera?" 

The Fox laughs a little and starts stroking himself a little faster -- 

"Not that, *either*!" 

And the Fox groans for the *snap* in Dickie's voice -- and the way it makes him *need* to slow right down and feel every moment of Dickie's tongue... being way the fuck over there. "Sorry, Dickie. I'll be good --" 

"I *doubt* it. But -- tell me about the *opera*!" 

"You and Brucie are *all* dressed up. Tuxes with *tails*, yet. Starched shirts. You look -- mm. You look like a couple of super-rich *penguins*." 

"That's not *dirty*!" 

Oh... 

"Wait for it, Dickie-bird. You just -- mm. You're all *cranky*. *Because* he dressed you up like that. You don't feel like you can *move*." 

Dickie narrows his eyes. "And?" 

"*And*... the Wayne box at the Gotham opera house is about as private as a box can get at that place... but people can still see your faces and chests if they look." 

"Oh. Oh. What -- what *else*?" 

The Fox licks his lips and *pumps* into his hand a little -- 

"Stop that right *now*!" 

That -- is more than worth a grunt. And a drop right down onto his ass. "Anything you say, Dickie --" 

"Tell me!" 

The Fox *pants* -- "He opens you up, Dickie. The bottom of your shirt *and* your pants. He feels you up... nn. The entire first act." 

"How. How long?" 

"Varies. He was thinking thirty, forty-five minutes --" 

*Dickie* grunts -- 

Tell him about -- 

"He puts a cock ring on you... once you're hard enough." 

"Oh -- it wouldn't take *long*!" 

And the Fox takes a look -- Dickie's dickie is reaching for his abs and leaking so -- "Can I get a taste, Dickie?" 

"Um. Um." Dickie swipes some pre-come up -- 

The Fox opens *wide* -- 

But Dickie smears it under his nose. Just -- 

The Fox flares his nostrils and *shudders*, narrowing his eyes -- 

Careful, that expression can be intimidating -- 

Look at him, Brucie. Just -- look. 

Because Dickie's mouth is open -- 

And his eyes are wide and wild and *thrilled* -- 

And his cheeks are *flushed* -- 

Oh... yes. 

The Fox *shows* his teeth. "You see what you do to me, Dickie-bird?" 

Dickie pants a little and looks down at the Fox's dick -- and moans. 

And *squirms*. 

"Wanna be *in* you, Dickie-bird. Wanna fuck you so *hard*..." 

Dickie groans -- and pinches his own nipples *hard*. 

"Oh... oh, that's sweet --" 

"More, Fox. More!" 

"Yeah, I -- *mm*. He keeps feelin' you up. When you whimper too loud? He pinches your sweet little dick." 

"Oh! And -- and everyone is right there?" 

"Uh, huh. Watchin' the show -- you hope. Heh. I..." The Fox licks his lips -- and groans for the taste of Dickie's pre-come -- 

"Don't get -- distracted!" 

The Fox laughs and groans, feeling that pull, that *shake* you only get when you're *just* that hard and *just* that amused -- 

"Come *on* --" 

"He works you *over*, Dickie. He... mm. He keeps feeling you and feeling you until you're *slick* with sweat. Until. Until *anyone* who walked into that box could *taste* you on the air." 

"Oh -- that -- " 

"And then..." The Fox licks his lips again -- 

*Groans* again -- 

"Then he starts playing with your ass. Rubbing your hole with *dry* fingers. Pushing in 'til... 'til you can feel the *burn*." 

Dickie moans for that -- 

"Uh, huh..." 

"When. When does he let me *come*?" 

The Fox laughs a little and -- doesn't bounce. Doesn't *pump*. "*Need* you, Dickie --" 

"*Wait* for it!" 

The Fox growls and *grins*. "He waits for a *passionate* aria. Something... something loud and *exciting*. And then he rips off the cock ring *while* shoving deep --" 

Dickie grunts again -- 

"You go off like a rocket, Dickie-bird. And -- mm. He catches every drop in his hankie. And then?" 

"*What*?" 

"Heh heh. He folds the hankie up *nice* and neat... and puts it right back in his breast pocket." 

"Holy..." 

Very. 

You can't make Dickie our *religion*, Brucie -- 

Are you quite sure about that? 

Uh. Uh. Lemme get back to you when he's *not* rubbing the head of our dick like that -- 

Yes. Oh... 

"Is it getting too much for you, Fox?" 

The Fox knows he's flushed, knows he's *ready* -- "I can... stick it out a little longer." 

"I *want* you to stick it *in* --" 

"Won't happen. *Can't* happen --" 

"Then just this," Dickie says, and starts *working* the head with his thumb -- 

The Fox *groans* for it -- 

"One more fantasy, Fox..." 

"Yeah. Yeah. One of mine?" 

Dickie licks his lips. "Yeah, I. I want... I want it." 

"Okay. Uh. How's this: we're on the jet." 

"Oh --" Dick giggles. "What *happens*?" 

"You get a little toppy with me. A little *demanding*." 

Dickie swallows. "Y-yeah?" 

The Fox grins. "You make me *wait* for it." 

Dick pants and rubs a little faster. "And?" 

"You -- heh. Tease me with your hot little hand. Tease me even though you said you *wouldn't*." 

Dick *jumps* for that -- and then smiles *slyly*. "What *happens*?" 

"I take it, Dickie. I take it... and take it... and take it." 

Dickie frowns and opens his mouth -- 

"Until." 

Dickie *gasps* a little. "Until *what*?" 

The Fox grins and *moves*, and Dickie's *fast* -- but he's never really run for his life before. Never *fought* for his life. The Fox will teach him that *sooner* rather than later, but for now it's time to use the two zip-strips he'd slipped in his pocket when Dickie wasn't looking on Dickie's wrists and ankles -- 

"Oh, *Fox*!" 

Time to lay Dickie out on the ridiculously soft carpeting between the couch and the bar -- 

I do wonder how the salesman talked Father into that -- 

Not *now*, Brucie!

As you say. 

I *do* say. And the Fox looks over his handiwork as Dickie squirms and giggles and *fights* -- but the strip around his wrists is too tight to make dislocating his thumbs worthwhile. 

The Fox rubs his hands together and straddles Dickie's thighs -- 

"This -- it doesn't count as a *fantasy*, Fox!" 

"But it's what I've been thinkin' about for whole *minutes*, Dickie-bird. I've just always been more of a shower than a teller." 

Dickie snickers and squirms a little more -- "What are you gonna *do*?" 

The Fox waggles his eyebrows. "Whatever I *want*." 

"*Oh* -- let me *suck* you!" 

The Fox purrs a little. "Maybe. Do you *deserve* it?" 

Dickie -- that was almost a *squeal* -- 

And he blushes -- 

"Um. Can we pretend I didn't make that noise?" 

"Heh." The Fox strokes down the bridge of Dickie's nose. "*Only* if you promise to do it again sometime." 

"Oh -- *Fox*!" 

"Maybe while I'm balls-deep in you and *pounding*?" 

Dickie grunts and *arches* --

"*Down*." 

Dickie gasps and *drops* -- 

"*Good* boy. Yeah, I think... I think this is the beginning of a *beautiful* friendship, Dickie-bird." 

"Between your dick and my mouth?" 

The Fox snickers and jerks himself fast and hard for a few seconds -- 

A minute -- 

"*Fox*!" 

"What if my fantasy is to come all over you, Dickie?" 

Dickie makes a face -- 

The Fox raises his eyebrows -- 

"I mean! There's nothing wrong with it!" 

The Fox snickers a little more and *stops* jerking off. "There is if you don't *want* it --" 

"You can *tell* me the fantasy and then -- do other things!" 

"Oh, yeah...?" 

"Like *put your dick in my mouth*. Now!" 

The Fox grins and leans over to lick Dickie a little. Right around his neck, and his ears -- 

"Oh -- oh, Fox --" 

*Bite* his ears --

"*Nnh* --" 

Drag his dick all *over* Dickie's abs -- 

"Oh -- oh, that's --" 

"You like it, Dickie...?"

"It feels -- it feels like you're *almost* fucking me!" 

"Oh, *yeah*," and the Fox grabs Dickie's wrists and lines himself up with Dickie's dickie -- "Nothing wrong with a little rubbing off --" 

"Oh -- oh, *yeah* --" 

"Uh, huh. Of course -- I can tell you some *other* fantasies..." 

"*Please*!" 

"*Mm*. That's one. Makin' you beg for it for *hours*. Sticking it in for a *few* thrusts and then pulling out again -- and again -- and *again* --" 

Dickie groans and tosses his head -- 

And the Fox has to pant for it, has to *grind* for it -- "You feel so *good* to me, Dickie..." 

"More -- please *more* --" 

"*Always*. There's -- mm. Teachin' you how to *ride*, Dickie --" 

"Oh -- your dick?" 

The Fox gasps a laugh -- "The *bikes*, Dickie --" 

"*Oh* -- oh, I want --" 

"They're gonna be... be your other legs. Run you right around *town*," and the Fox growls and thrusts faster -- 

"So big -- so -- " 

"For *you*, Dickie-bird -- and I'll bend you *over* the bikes --" 

"*Please*!" 

"Do you in an *alley* --" 

Dickie grunts and tries to arch, tries to *pump* -- 

But the Fox can't let him, can't do anything but *fuck* against him -- "Make you -- I'll do it *fast*, Dickie-bird. I'll make you come all over the *tires*." 

Dickie whimpers and nods -- 

Opens his eyes -- they're dazed, *heavy* with sex -- 

He is close... 

*Fuck*, yeah -- "Or maybe -- *nnh*. Maybe I'll just *spank* your pretty little ass --" 

"*Fox*!" 

"Maybe I'll do it hard, do it until you *cry* for me again --" 

"*Please* --" 

"God, *yeah* --" And the Fox does it a little harder, *scrubs* his hair against Dickie -- 

"Oh -- *oh* -- "

"*Do* it!" 

And Dickie *wails* then, throws his head back and shakes all over, shudders like he's *sick* -- 

"Don't make me --" 

Wait, except that Dickie grunting and shooting off right then and there, bucking as much as he can -- 

Fuck, he looks like he's having the sexiest seizure in the *world* -- 

Fox. 

Like you're *not* getting off on this -- 

Thrust *faster*, Fox -- 

No, no, I -- 

Dickie collapses and *whimpers* -- and his eyes *fly* open when the Fox kneels up and grips him by the hair. 

"You ready, Dickie?" 

"Oh, *Fox*!" And Dickie's scrambling just like that, a fraction as graceful as he usually is, but still *infinitely* more together than ninety-nine percent of the world would be with tied ankles and wrists. After *coming*, yet. He scoots out from between the Fox's legs and twists himself onto his knees, flipping his arms behind his back -- 

"*Jesus*, Dickie --" 

"Double-*jointed*, Fox," and Dickie leans in and *licks* his dick, licks it like an ice cream cone and does it again -- 

*Again* -- 

"Oh, *mmm*..." 

"*Fuck*, Dickie, do what you *want* --" 

"Mm-hmm..." And Dickie takes the head in just like that, wrapping his lips around it and sucking *hard* -- 

The Fox grunts and catches himself on his hand -- 

The Fox tries to -- tries to *think* -- 

Feel, Fox. Feel and -- and *give* -- 

Oh, Brucie, his *mouth* -- 

Warm. *Welcoming* -- 

*Wet*, wet and -- 

Dickie takes more, and more, and he's humming for every last centimeter, crawling closer and turning his head so he can see their *face* -- 

"It's good, Dickie. It -- I won't *last* --" 

"*Mm* --" And Dickie starts working his head, starts -- 

Taking himself -- 

Fucking himself on our *dick* -- 

Moaning so -- 

Music, Brucie, it's *music* -- 

I want -- 

*More* -- and the Fox cups Dickie's head, not even close to surprised that his hands are shaking -- 

That *he's* shaking -- 

"Mm, mm, *mm* --" 

"*Dickie* --" 

"Mm?" 

"More -- more humming. Moaning. Make some *noise*, Dickie-bird --" 

Dickie *wriggles* -- and then *squeals* around him -- 

"*Fuck* -- you clenched?" 

"Mm-hmm..." 

The Fox groans and cards through Dickie's hair, pets and strokes and *wants* -- "God, you..." 

"Mmmrrmm?" 

"Yeah, fuck, that -- it's a *vibration*, Dickie --" 

And Dickie hums again -- 

Sucks hard and hums *again* -- 

Works his head and *keeps* humming -- 

"Jesus. Fucking -- Kent vibrated, Dickie. Made me *like* it --" 

Dickie squeals again and starts to *drool*, gets him -- gets him *wet*. And the thought -- 

The *need* -- 

Oh, Fox. *Tell* him -- 

Yeah. Yeah. "I'll *share* you with him, Dickie. Get you. Get you *super*-fucked -- *hnh* --" 

Dickie bares his teeth -- 

The Fox thrusts *helplessly* -- 

Dickie *gulps* like -- like a fucking *pro*. Does it again and *again*, and that's how the Fox knows he's *still* thrusting, still -- 

He's not pushing *deep*, yet, but -- 

There's a knock. On the side of the *plane*. The Fox looks -- 

And Kent is flying at their exact speed, beaming *hopefully* through the window. He -- 

The Fox snorts and *yanks* Dickie off -- 

"*Fox* --" 

Turns his *head* -- 

And Dickie gasps and *stares* -- 

And Kent gives him a thumbs-up -- and mimes 'call me' before flying off to fuck only knows where. The Fox snorts. "See?" 

"Um. Um. Um." 

The Fox snickers a little and turns Dickie's face back to where it *belongs* -- 

"Oh, *yeah* -- *mmph* --" 

The Fox opens his mouth -- but all that comes out is a *growl*, because Dickie's trying to swallow him again, trying to *take* -- 

He is... so eager -- 

So *sweet* -- 

I wonder... if the hunger makes him *ache*. 

Wanna feel it, wanna -- 

I do, as well. 

Let's -- 

*Yes* -- 

They merge with a growl and a *twitch* -- 

Dick *groans* -- 

"Dick. Be *ready*." 

And Dick's eyes are wide. He -- he can *always* feel them, whoever they are. He *knows* -- 

The boy is so beautiful, so wise -- 

The boy is *theirs*, and that means that it's right to push their hands into his hair, to tug and *grip* -- 

"*Take*." 

To hold him still when he tries to -- to *nod* -- 

And thrust -- 

And groan and ache and *need* -- 

And *thrust* -- 

Over and -- 

Pushing *deep* -- "*Dick* --" 

But he can't answer with anything but the *squirm* of his body, the wriggle and abortive gasps -- 

They are so warm -- 

So -- so *safe* -- 

And it's necessary to stroke Dick everywhere they can reach, to bring their fingers to their mouth and suck away the taste of salt and *struggle* -- 

Dick is swallowing *constantly* -- 

And their vision is dark and -- and *thready*. Nothing is entirely clear but the boy kneeling before them, nothing is *worth* more than the boy -- 

*Dick* -- 

"*Love*!" 

And Dick *jumps* for that, but they hold him still and *thrust* more -- 

Squeeze their eyes shut -- no. Not that. They must see everything, take everything they've been given -- 

It's only what they *owe* -- 

And so is the fuck. The grinding, *twisting* fuck that makes Dick's mouth swell and redden, that -- 

They think they can smell his *strain* -- 

They watch Dick's eyes roll up in his head and stroke his cheeks, *press* on the outside of his throat -- 

Dick jerks back and gasps hot and cool on them, around them -- and they growl with needy hunger until Dick whimpers and takes them back, holds them and squeezes -- 

"Dick. *Teeth* --" 

They still can't let him nod, but -- 

But now their vision is bright and sparking. Still thready and uneven in -- in places -- 

But -- 

But they can moan for it, and fuck the boy faster, the beautiful -- 

Beloved and so *perfect* -- 

"Love. *Love* -- " And of course the words are difficult, of course they are grunting beasts for it -- 

Of course -- 

Of course it's even better to *touch* Dick's lips, to press and rub -- 

To swipe up saliva from his chin and taste that, groan around their own fingers -- 

Fuck their own mouth until Dick notices and *squeals* again -- 

They pull their fingers out and smile, knowing it's wild and at least somewhat demented, lost -- "*Ours*." 

And Dick nods and pushes himself more, sucks even harder as he scrapes -- 

As they *thrust* -- "Our beautiful -- beautiful *love* --" 

And Dick is thrusting at the *air* -- 

"Our perfect *fuck*," and now they can't do anything but hold Dick still there, right there -- 

For every -- 

Desperate -- 

*Push* -- as they growl and groan for it, *roar* for the tightness -- 

The *rush* as the world disintegrates, as the jet narrows to just a small, perfect boy with a tight, perfect *mouth* -- 

And they come shaking and panting -- 

Grunting -- 

*Clawing* at Dick's head until they lose count of the twitches -- 

The pulsing *heat* --! 

And then they breathe. And -- release. 

Dick pants on his knees, licks his lips -- "You didn't let me taste!" 

"We are... we couldn't." 

Dick frowns at him. "Could the Fox have? Bruce?" 

They smile and stroke his reddened mouth. "Perhaps." 

A thoughtful nod -- and then Dick scoots back and flips his arms forward again. "Untie me?" 

"We like... we like to see you this way." 

Dick cocks his head to the side. "Graysons. Gotta. *Fly*." 

They laugh for that and moan, stroking their skin, touching and feeling the *hum* of pleasure -- 

"And you need a *name*!" 

"Not two...?" 

Dick snorts and balls his bound hands into fists before punching their jaw -- lightly. "Come on come on come on! I mean, how much longer *is* this flight?" 

They -- have no time sense. 

They frown and -- 

Where *is* the time? They've never -- 

"Um... guys? You okay?" 

They shake their head and pull Dick close -- 

"*Oof* -- what's wrong?" 

They -- they kiss Dick, and lick him. They taste him until the empty spaces within them stop *shouting* -- 

"I can't *hold* you like this, guys --" 

"Yes. We. It's time," and they lick into Dick's ear for a moment -- 

"Yeep --" 

They separate -- 

The darkness is vast and strange -- 

The world is fucking -- 

They're in the solarium -- 

And *I'm* the prancing weirdo with the knives *that you forgot to pack*. 

Hm. I'm quite sure Alfred didn't. And Bruce kisses Dick's ear and stands, lifting him into his arms -- 

"*Oh* -- Bruce, what happened to the other -- guys?" 

"They found a hollow place within them when they tried to find an answer to your question about the length of the flight," and Bruce carries Dick to their luggage, pleased that paranoia has left him *incapable* of traveling any great distance without having his luggage in easy *reach*. He sets Dick down in the jump chair and opens his suitcase, lifting out the more innocuous compartment to reveal -- two Fox uniforms, and fifty razor-sharp knives. Bruce uses one to slice Dick free -- 

"*Finally* --" And Dick flips up onto his hands and 'runs' the length of the passenger compartment. 

Jesus, that *boy* -- 

Yes. But -- "We should shower, Dick." 

Dick flips again, twisting in midair before landing perfectly on his toes. "You have a shower on this plane." 

Bruce hums. "I've come to believe that the salesperson for the Grummett company bore a striking resemblance to Mother." 

Dick sticks his tongue out. "*You* said there were *problems* in your parents' marriage." 

"Not," Bruce says, and offers his hand, "due to any failure of affection on Father's part." 

Dick does two and a *half* flips back to him -- and slaps Bruce's palm before beginning to... jump. In place. 

"You are... restless?" 

"We didn't *do* enough today, Bruce." 

Bruce nods thoughtfully. "We will increase your training regimen. For now, the flight will last only twenty minutes more --" 

"Okay, shower," and Dick pulls them further toward the back of the plane. The shower is *barely* big enough for two people, but Dick seems content to rub against Bruce to help spread the soap around. 

They do not get their hair wet -- 

"Why do the guys have a hollow place?" 

Bruce washes Dick's lean, smooth back. "They almost certainly have several, Dick. They seem to be both of us, but they don't manage to *express* both of us in conscious ways." 

"Um." 

Bruce hums and takes Dick's penis in hand -- 

"Oh -- *Bruce* --" 

"I need your pleasure. Always." 

Dick braces his hands on the wall and nods. "Tell me -- tell me?" 

"Everything," Bruce says, and begins to stroke. "I believe the nameless ones are, in some ways, quite young. Infants who have only been able to touch the world for a few moments at a time separated by long stretches of something which goes far deeper than sleep." 

"Oh. Ohh. Okay?" 

"They have not yet learned to interact with the world -- and with themselves." 

"Mm. Nn -- *will* they learn?" 

"I believe so. You enjoy them too much to allow them to lay fallow for long." 

"They always -- they *forget* that I'm a kid --" 

"No. They simply have no power to treat you with care --" 

"I wish. I wish you didn't always --" 

Bruce squeezes *hard* -- 

"*Ohn*!" 

"Like this, beloved boy...?" 

"Oh -- God. You -- are *you* horny?" 

"I am... satisfied for now --" 

"You're -- you're saving some for *Lex*." 

Bruce kisses the top of Dick's head. "Yes." 

"God, what are you gonna do when you're *old*?" 

Bruce laughs softly and strokes... somewhat viciously -- 

"Nnh! Oh -- oh, *fuck*, Bruce!"

"*Will* you let me take you to the opera...?" 

"Only -- only if you do *this*!" 

"And, perhaps, this...?" And Bruce moves his free hand to Dick's cleft and rubs *roughly* at his anus -- 

Dick whines and shakes, beginning to thrust -- 

"Oh... that's very good." 

"Just -- I *have* to, Bruce!" 

"It's beautiful to watch. To... feel." 

Dick moans and adds a graceful twist to his hips -- 

Bruce hums. "Perhaps, someday, you will dance for me --" 

Dick nods frantically -- "Faster, please please --" 

"Of course," and Bruce squeezes harder, as well -- 

"Nuh -- no, too much --" 

Bruce relaxes his grip -- 

"Oh, fast, *fast*!" 

Bruce uses speed he hasn't used on himself since the days when his erections would come with horrifying frequency and *inconvenience* -- 

Like this past *week*, Brucie? 

Bruce hums. I admit nothing -- 

"Oh -- *ohn* -- I love you, Bruce, I *love* you!" 

"*Always*, Dick --" 

Dick shouts -- and spatters the dark blue tile with his semen. 

Bruce catches him before he can slump and get his hair wet, and they breathe together for a time -- 

And then Dick turns around and wraps his arms around Bruce's neck. "I like it when you have control, *too*." 

Bruce smiles. "Good." 

"And --- um. In public? Really?"

"I've learned that I'm capable of fantasizing any number of things I would never truly do. I love you too much to risk losing you." 

Dick bites his lip and nods. "Or to risk *injuring* me." 

"Yes." 

"I *really* want you to fuck me again, Bruce." 

Bruce leans in to kiss Dick's forehead. "Soon." 

Dick sighs and nods. "Let's get dried off and dressed for *Lex*." 

Bruce hums. "As you say."


	30. Chapter 30

When they land, there is a lepidolite limousine on the tarmac which can only belong to Lex -- 

"Um." 

Bruce adjusts the fall of his jacket. The suit is a shade of brown rich enough to appeal to the Fox... and dark enough that Bruce doesn't feel especially conspicuous. "He has been desperately fond of various shades of purple since we were young." 

"But -- *he* hasn't come out, has he?" 

"No, and I don't believe he intends to do so until he has acquired more power," Bruce says, and picks up their suitcases -- 

Dick takes his own from Bruce and gives him a very pointed look. 

Bruce hums. "As you... gaze." 

Dick snorts and jumps in place while waiting for the stairs to be wheeled up to the side of the jet. "And -- um." 

"Yes?" 

"*Does* he date women?" 

"Several, though the women he cares for most are his bodyguards." 

"The psychos." 

"Two psychopaths, one sociopath." 

Dick makes a face. "What's the difference?" 

Bruce smiles. "There are any number of differences, but the most noticeable one is that there is only rarely anything like visible life in the sociopath's -- Hope Terrell's -- eyes." 

"Uh. Seriously?" 

"Yes. We find her to be rather atavistically horrifying." 

"Didn't you have her in your *house*?" 

"Yes. She had a rather interesting conversation with Alfred." 

"You left Alfred *alone* with her?" 

Bruce hums. "She has been ordered not to harm me or any of my loved ones unless we attempt to injure Lex in some way. I won't say it was like leaving Alfred with one of my sheathed knives, but... it's not an entirely inaccurate simile." 

Dick shivers. "How do you *like* someone like that?" 

Bruce strokes the back of Dick's neck. "Ask him." 

"I -- *really*?" 

"You could, if you wished, consider it as getting to know him --" 

"So I can like him someday," Dick says, and stops jumping. "Does he... does he have any *sane* friends?" 

Bruce hums again. "You... could be the first." 

Dick snorts for that and elbows Bruce lightly -- 

Bruce tickles Dick solely to watch his physical genius in action -- 

The way he moves -- 

The feel of his calluses as he slaps at Bruce's hands -- 

The way he twists and leaps and *runs* -- but never far. 

God, *please* never -- 

Yes. Please. 

And Dick is still giggling breathlessly when Miranda toggles the intercom. "We're all set, Mr. Wayne! Do you need help with the door?" 

Bruce yanks Dick close enough for a hard -- and brief -- kiss -- 

"*Mm*!" 

\-- and then toggles the intercom himself. "We're quite all right, Miranda, but thank you." 

"You're welcome! Enjoy Metropolis!" 

"Please do the same with my compliments. Good evening," and Bruce flips the intercom back to receive only and releases Dick -- 

"You messed up my *hair*, Bruce." 

Bruce smiles and opens the door, breathing deep for the strangeness that is Metropolis' relatively clear air. "I think it suits you." 

"*You* think *everything* suits me." 

Bruce steps back and gestures for Dick to go first. 

"Ooh, these stairs are *steep* --" 

"Be careful --" 

"Yeah, yeah --" 

"And note that I have not yet asked you to pose in a bathtub full of several hundred dollars worth of pudding." 

Dick chokes -- and does not even come close to tripping before he's down on the tarmac. And turning to give Bruce a rather ecstatically obscene gesture. 

In duplicate. 

While grinning. 

Bruce hums once more and descends rather more sedately -- 

And Lex steps smoothly out of the limousine with a *wryly* welcoming smile on his face -- and a truly spectacular black eye. Hm. 

Do we ask? 

Yes, I believe so. Bruce raises an eyebrow after the obligatory manly handshake -- in case of photographers. 

Lex snorts quietly. "Cassandra -- who is waiting for us in the car, by the way -- and I had a misunderstanding about when it was proper for me to come up behind her quietly. The answer, in case it comes up, is never." 

Bruce hums. "Noted. Lex, meet Dick Grayson. Dick, meet Lex." 

Dick steps up and offers his hand -- 

And Lex takes it and shakes it gently but firmly. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grayson." 

"You, too, Mr. Luthor. Um. Thank you for helping Bruce take me in." 

Lex's smile is small and warm. "You're very welcome, but, please, call me Lex." 

Dick narrows his eyes. "Are you that casual or are you trying to make a good expression?" 

Lex's smile gets much sharper and happier -- "Neither, Mr. Grayson. I simply choose to limit the number of people per day who are allowed to remind me of my father." 

"He -- oh. I. Most people just called my parents by their names." 

Lex winces. "I'm sorry --" 

"No, I -- I was rude, and -- you weren't. Um. I think I was... due," Dick says, and looks down. 

Bruce pulls him close -- 

"I'm not gonna cry *here*, Bruce --" 

"Anywhere, Dick. It's better not to --" 

"*Repress* it. I *know*," and Dick squeezes him hard before pushing off and smiling up at him ruefully. "Not until we get somewhere with a *bathroom*, okay?" 

Bruce smiles and strokes his hair. "As you say." 

"And -- um. Call me Dick, Lex. Please." 

Lex inclines his head. "Thank you. I promise there are any number of bathrooms in the tower." 

"You live in a -- right, never mind," and Dick pushes a hand back through his hair and smiles again. "Introduce us to Cassandra?" 

"Of course," and Lex gestures them into the car -- 

Where Cassandra, dressed in a soft-looking violet t-shirt and matching leggings, is taking apart several guns and putting them back together again. 

At speed. 

"Uh." 

"In answer to your question, Cassandra seems to find that particular activity soothing. I've managed to convince her that the bullets aren't strictly necessary at all times." 

Bruce hums -- 

And Cassandra looks up -- 

Blinks -- 

And narrows her eyes, cocking her head to the side in obvious confusion. 

*Lex* looks confused -- "Cassandra...?"

She's looking for me, Brucie. I think. 

Yes. 

"One moment," Bruce says, and waits for Lex to close the door behind them -- 

And then the Fox rises and smiles ruefully. "Hey, Cassandra." 

She blinks and sets the tray with the guns aside before limping over and patting the Fox's face and chest. 

"What do you need, honey?" 

She tugs on the Fox's shoulder as if to make him turn -- 

The Fox turns in his seat -- 

And Cassandra pats the small of the Fox's back... where Bruce had sheathed one of the Fox's knives. She hums and steps back, nodding in obvious approval before turning to Dickie, who *clearly* isn't sure what to think -- 

But is clearly game. He offers his hand slowly -- 

Cassandra takes it and turns it over to study the palm, feeling at Dickie's calluses in confusion -- 

Pushing and tugging Dickie's hand into strike positions -- 

And shaking her head when the calluses don't line up properly. She looks up and points to the calluses with an obvious question in her eyes. 

The Fox waits for Dickie to turn to *him* with question -- 

But Dickie only smiles and gestures her to step back -- 

Before flipping up onto his hands -- bending his knees to keep from brushing the roof of the car -- and 'jogging', not 'running', around her several times. Dickie then flips back onto his feet and points to *some* of the calluses on his palms. 

Cassandra narrows her eyes in thought... and then flips up onto her hands herself. She's as graceful as an assassin needs to be, but far less practiced, wobbling somewhat dangerously when she tries to 'walk.' 

"Here, I -- wait," and Dickie turns to Lex. "She understands by *seeing* things, right?" 

Lex inclines his head. "Mm-hmm." 

"Okay," and Dickie steps heavily around her until she can see him, and then mimes being off-balance. 

Cassandra nods and straightens *immediately*... but it's obvious that her strength isn't quite enough for it.

The pain is almost certainly sapping it still, Fox. 

Uh, huh -- 

And Dickie focuses on the place on her left leg where the bandage is puffing out the leggings *just* like that. He crouches and mimes a tumble -- 

Cassandra does it smoothly, using her injured leg without a wince. She doesn't put much weight on it when she stands, though. 

Dickie points to the injury and makes a pained expression --

But Cassandra doesn't reach to pat at his face -- she can read a fake easily. 

Yes. 

Instead, Cassandra nods and frowns *mildly* -- 

And Dickie nods and offers his hand. 

Cassandra points to what are almost certainly Dickie's *trapeze* calluses with a question in her eyes. 

Dickie bites his lip as he tries to figure out how to express *that* -- but then mimes gripping a bar -- 

And lifts his right leg out behind him -- 

And makes a whooshing sound.

Cassandra frowns and looks Dickie over, patting him and poking at his muscles surprisingly gently -- 

She knows much about bodies, Fox. 

Yeah, true, true. 

Cassandra steps back, points to her chest, points to Dickie's chest, and then slaps at both *vigorously* -- though not roughly. 

"We're... the same? Yeah, we are. I mean -- I'm human, too? I *need* stuff to fly." 

Cassandra reaches up and pats Dickie's mouth, shaking her head. 

Dickie nods and thinks about it for a little while, holding up a hand -- 

And Lex reaches over and strokes the back of the Fox's hand, slow and *pointed*. 

Heh. The Fox turns and grins. "What if I don't *like* my men all marked-up?" 

Lex hums and crosses his legs in the swishiest way imaginable -- 

"Ooh --" 

"I should sue you for stealing my shtick, Fox." 

"Heh. Imitation is --" 

"Imitation is imitation. *Flattery* would involve rather more... contact." 

Hm. I don't know how I feel about Lex censoring himself. 

It's *necessary*, Brucie -- 

True. But I reserve the right to be conflicted. 

I love you. 

And I you -- and Lex is curious. 

Uh, huh. The Fox grins. "Musing on the nature of censorship, Lexie."

Lex laughs quietly. "Five isn't thirteen -- no matter what those five years were like."

"No argument *here* --" 

"But there is argument *there*...? Interesting." 

"We can chat it out later." 

"Oh -- we absolutely will," Lex says, and smiles with relish. 

Oh, Fox -- 

Yeah, I'm looking -- 

And Lex gasps *quietly*... because Dickie has Cassandra on his lap and is demonstrating... cuddle. 

Not clinging, not *holding*, just arms *loosely* around the neck and head resting on the shoulder -- 

She pulls back and cocks her head in question -- 

And Dickie mimes happiness, pleasure -- 

And she does it, snuggling close and sighing out a breath as Dickie squeezes her with one hand and pushes the tray of guns further away with the other. 

Lex grins. "Thank you, Dick." 

*Dickie* grins. "You're welcome. *Everybody* needs hugs." 

"I agree wholeheartedly... though I wondered if what you just did wouldn't be harder to do than teaching Hope to cuddle." 

"Um. The... sociopath?" 

Lex hums and gives *him* a look. "Telling tales, Fox...?" 

The Fox shows his teeth. "You -- and your *Virtues* -- are *not* the beginner's course, Lexie." 

"I don't know *what* you're talking about --" 

"*Why* do you... *surround* yourself with crazy people?" And Dick kisses Cassandra's forehead -- 

And Cassandra touches the spot and Dick's mouth several times, pulling back to look a question -- 

Jesus. *Jesus* -- 

Dickie looks *horrified* -- 

Cassandra shrinks a little -- 

"Oh! No, it's okay, it's okay, Cassandra. Um." Dickie takes a deep breath and chills himself *right* out -- "It's um --" 

Cassandra covers his mouth -- 

And Dickie nods, raising his eyebrows and hugging her again *demonstratively*, and petting her the same way -- 

She pats his mouth *insistently* -- 

The Fox shifts. "Dickie, maybe --"

"I grew up with *clowns*, Fox. I got this," and he sets Cassandra down on the seat and moves to sit on the Fox's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and resting his head the way Cassandra had been doing with him, before gesturing Cassandra to watch. "Okay, Bruce, showtime." 

Bruce rises. "As you say," and he kisses the top of Dick's head and holds him close. 

Cassandra cocks her head to the side once more and frowns -- 

And Dick squeezes Bruce's neck and kisses his cheek before turning back to Cassandra and pointing to Lex -- 

"Oh, Dick, I'm not sure --" 

"You *really* are, Lex. I mean, you actually worked with *Superman* for her." 

Lex... blushes. "I... will, of course, be thanking him profusely -- and publicly -- once Cassandra has settled --" 

"This will *help* her settle, Lex. And -- I think you probably need to hug more people who aren't crazy. I mean, even Bruce and Fox are a little too far in that... um. Direction." 

Lex laughs *nervously*, and -- no. Bruce reaches over and covers Lex's hand. "I don't believe this is something you can get wrong, Lex." 

"Of *course* it is -- and we really need to leave the tarmac *eventually* --" 

"Lex. You are greater than this fear." 

Lex blinks and inhales sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before smiling. "I suppose I *did* give you the keys to the proverbial -- yes, well." Lex smiles ruefully and strokes his own thigh, looking to Cassandra before offering his hand. "I'm terrible at pantomime, Cassandra. I am, however, hoping to give you everything you deserve. Which is everything." 

Cassandra frowns, looking at Lex's knees, his feet, his chest -- and his face. 

Lex smiles more broadly and circles the space over his heart before signing 'I love you.' 

"Oh -- what does that mean, Lex?" 

"It means -- it means..." Lex swallows and sighs, and his smile shakes on his face. "It means that everything I do, from now on, will be designed to make Cassandra proud of me, and comfortable, and happy." The smile gets a little stronger. "And, perhaps, to make Bruce and the Fox just a *little* safer --" 

And Cassandra stands up and limps slowly across the small space -- 

"I shouldn't make her -- " 

"It's *her* choice, Lex," and Dick twists on Bruce's lap. "It's okay. She can see you don't wanna hurt her." 

"She -- why --" Lex shakes his head. "None of this will be confusing for you in time, Cassandra. In a *short* amount of time. I promise you," and Lex signs 'I love you' again almost *roughly* -- 

Cassandra takes his hand and squeezes it, then signs 'I love you' back with a question in her eyes. 

"I want -- how --" 

"Just *feel*. And -- um. Be obvious about it. *More* obvious." 

"Of course. Subtlety is -- entirely overrated, and --" Lex looks down and glares at his lap -- 

Cassandra takes *half* a step back -- 

And then Lex shudders and looks up, showing himself -- 

Bruce swallows helplessly. He -- 

The boy he *used* to be -- 

The boy he still *must* be, Fox -- 

A little. Inside -- 

For Cassandra. And, perhaps, at times, for us.

Cassandra blinks and pats Lex's hand. 

Lex strokes down over his face and chest, circles his heart, and signs 'I love you' once more. 

Cassandra swallows and looks *behind* herself -- 

Points at him and Dick -- 

Lex smiles wryly, *softly*, and points at her. 

She pats her own chest --

Lex nods and offers his hand once more -- 

And she slowly and carefully climbs onto Lex's lap and rests her head on his shoulder. Lex hugs her gently. "Cassandra, I --" 

She covers his mouth. 

Lex hums and hugs her more tightly. 

They stay right there for a time, and while a part of Bruce is only wondering what sort of image they're presenting by sitting in a limousine with blacked-out windows in the middle of an airport tarmac -- 

What sort of image *he's* presenting by holding a thirteen-year-old boy in this way -- 

Oh, did you remember that? 

I couldn't bring myself to care. 

Yeah, there's that. Well, Lex will *ask* -- 

And we will lie. 

Even if he already knows? Because I think -- 

Yes. I... I believe it is a lie he would appreciate. Although... 

Heh. If he *wants* the lie, he'll *ask* for it. 

Explicitly, perhaps. Bruce kisses Dick's temple -- 

And Dick hugs him tighter. "I love you, Bruce. And Fox." 

"And we love you." 

Lex laughs. There are tears in his voice, but -- 

Let's *not* acknowledge them. 

As you say. Bruce smiles, instead. "Did you have a comment, Lex...?" 

"Oh, nothing, nothing..." Lex inhales somewhat wetly. "I've just been struck, yet again, by the fact that you're even madder than I always thought you were." 

Bruce hums. "I've been told that it suits me." 

"Yes, I suppose you *do* have a habit of listening to still *other* crazy people. I --" Lex kisses the top of Cassandra's head softly -- 

And Cassandra squeezes Lex's neck hard enough to make Lex make a somewhat choked noise before she eases her grip. Slightly. 

Lex hums and strokes Cassandra's back before signing 'thank you.' 

Bruce takes Lex's hand with the hand he's not using to stroke Dick, and they remain in place for the better part of the next ten minutes -- 

Until Cassandra pulls back and pats her stomach. 

"Oh, yes?" Lex toggles the intercom switch. "Home, Hope. And *do* punch it." 

"Yes, Lex." 

There is, in fact, a surprising amount of acceleration... 

Ask. 

Yes. "Lex. About the engine in this limousine --" 

"I know *nothing* about it," Lex says, and tucks a lock of Cassandra's shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "Beyond knowing that the people who built it do the same for heads of state in assorted *exciting* countries." Lex grins. "*Will* the Fox be getting a car?" 

Bruce hums. "He may have to," and Bruce tilts Dick's chin up. "Neither of us are entirely sanguine about the idea of having Dick riding pillion... as opposed to riding his *own* bike when the time comes." 

"Oh -- *when*, Bruce?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "When we discover whether or not it will be possible to build one which will work for your size and still be... useful." 

Lex laughs. "You know, Bruce, I *have* those wartime mechanics on speed-dial --" 

"Um." Dick turns on Bruce's lap. "*Why*? I mean... how often *do* people try to assassinate you?" 

Lex's smile is distinctly predatory -- 

Cassandra slips into something like *half* of a ready position, moving her upper body belligerently enough to make the Fox start to rise within him -- while keeping her lower body still on Lex's lap. 

Lex blinks. 

Cassandra nerve-strikes the air questioningly -- 

And Lex laughs ruefully. "I suppose I *did* embody violence for a moment --" He sighs and shakes his head, opening his arms once more -- 

And Cassandra *jabs* the air and nods -- 

Lex wags a finger. "No spars until..." And he points to her injured leg. 

Cassandra slumps and nods before cuddling close once more. 

"You're getting *good* at this, Lex," and Dick smiles approvingly. 

"I test well, too -- but I really can't stress enough how *little* this would be possible without the time I've spent with Hope learning how to cuddle." 

"The -- sociopath." 

"Mm-hm. She had made a study of it before Mercy ever found her. While the lion's share of her duties since joining LexCorp has been to reduce the number of assassination attempts which get close enough to make me happy I have no hair to turn white -- that would be *three* in the last year, down from seven the year before and nine the year before that --" 

"Um." 

"Exactly. In any event, she's a highly effective operative in nearly every way... and she gives *excellent* hugs. She's also quite good at spooning, backrubs, and craniofacial massage. Additionally, Mercy told me that if I ever tried to have someone other than Hope wash her hair without first... ah... providing her with incentives, shall we say, she would... do something terribly mean to me." Lex's expression is quirked --

And Dick snickers. "I think Cass can probably *guess*, Lex. I mean, *I* can and I wasn't actually *trained* to read bodies as my *only* language." 

"You, my young friend, will forgive me if I wish to provide Cassandra with a childhood which is... ah... Bruce, what *is* the word I'm looking for?" 

"Hmm. 'Sane'...?" 

"Yes! Yes, that is an excellent word and we will *all* strive to embody it for at *least* the next five minutes," Lex says, sitting up straight and pulling on a sober expression. 

Cassandra pulls back and tugs on Lex's lower lip. 

Lex crosses his eyes -- 

Cassandra slaps both of Lex's cheeks and giggles -- 

"Ow, but -- that was very good --" 

Cassandra slaps his cheeks again and looks expectant. 

"Hm. I -- Dick?" 

"I'm pretty sure that means you should look all serious again, Lex." 

"I can *do* that," and Lex takes a deep breath and seems to pull on forty years of painfully staid -- 

And hemorrhoidal -- 

Fox. 

*What*? 

That expression speaks strongly of a man who has *never* been lucky enough to be anally penetrated, much less penetrated vigorously and often. 

The Fox snorts inside him -- 

And Cassandra looks delighted as she works to tug Lex's features out of true -- gently. 

Lex crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out *slowly* -- 

Cassandra claps -- and blows a raspberry. 

Lex returns the favor -- 

And Cassandra hugs Lex tightly, bouncing and -- humming. 

Lex hums a snatch of song in return -- 

And they trade back and forth for the rest of the ride. 

When they get to the LexCorp tower, Dick snorts rather viciously -- 

And Lex breaks off humming to wink. "Yes, it *is* ridiculous and phallic, but it was either that or start wearing a toupee, and I do have *some* self-respect left." 

Dick snorts again -- 

"*And* -- I bet you haven't seen the 'house' where *Bruce* grew up, yet."

"I don't *want* to. His *mother* lives there." 

Lex coughs. "Bruce, you -- ah." 

"It seemed," Bruce says, and strokes Lex's knuckles, "the better part of valor. And a good explanation of why I wouldn't be leaving him alone with a smart, cheerful, apparently loving woman who would surely only wish to make him feel welcome." 

"Oh... sugar plums. Yes, I see," Lex says, and squeezes Cassandra before cupping her face. "Home." 

She frowns and mimes sleep. 

Lex nods and mimes eating -- and cuddling. 

Cassandra nods and slips down off Lex's lap, moving to the other bench and putting the guns back together in -- 

That was just about twenty-four seconds, Brucie. 

I find that I wish -- well. 

The Fox laughs within him as they step out of the car. You can't actually censor your *thoughts* from me. 

I -- perhaps the thought counts? 

Yeah, yeah, I *don't mind* you wishing that we'd caused Cain more pain. It's -- the other thing. 

Yes. Bruce slips within for long enough to kiss the Fox's cheek. Brother. 

Brother. 

When he focuses on the outside world once more, Dick is stretching his shoulders with expert care and eyeing him curiously. 

"We were discussing... something better left to a private moment." 

Dick nods and runs to the elevators --

And Cassandra looks after him longingly before frowning down at her leg -- 

"Oh, this is what private garages are *for*," and Lex picks Cassandra up and runs them to the elevators, as well. 

Bruce hums and walks, and, after a moment, Hope moves up to join him. "Mr. Wayne." 

Oh, sweet Jesus, she's talking to us -- 

Steady, Fox. Bruce inclines his head to her. "Please, call me Bruce. And I'll call you Hope...?" 

"Yes. Please do. Are you in love with Lex." 

Bruce blinks -- 

You see? You *see*?

Fox. "Yes, I am." 

"Are you in love with Lex more than you are in love with anyone else." 

"No." 

Hope nods and fingers her holsters. "You cannot change this." 

"No, I cannot. Nor would I." 

Hope frowns -- mildly. 

Sweet fucking *Christ*, *say* something! 

"I... will do everything in my power to never hurt him." 

"Do you think you will succeed." 

"He has many wounds, Hope --" 

"Yes. Will you avoid them." 

"I will try, but I am not always wise or deft. I am, however, working to change that." 

Hope narrows her beautiful eyes and nods. "Work... quickly." 

"As you say." 

"You want to injure me." 

"Part of me does." 

"Lex says you are... fractured. Neatly." 

"I am. Sometimes the... edges are not neat, at all." 

"If you were a Virtue --" 

"It will not happen, Hope," Bruce says, as gently as possible. "I am not... I am my own weapon." 

"You do not find that lonely." 

Bruce blinks -- but he knew, truly, that Hope was as human -- 

Really *not*, Brucie -- 

As human as it is possible for her to be. 

Well -- the Fox growls and subsides -- 

"Please answer," Hope says, and moves to stand in front of him, feet shoulder-width apart and hands on her gun-butts. 

"Hope, please don't menace my lover." 

Hope frowns -- 

Bruce holds up a hand. "It's quite all right, Lex. It's a necessary conversation." 

"If you're sure...?" 

"Yes," Bruce says, and turns to Hope. "I was... desperately lonely until very recently. However, meeting Dinah Lance, beginning with Lex, reconciling with Clark Kent --" 

"You did *what*?" And Lex is walking closer -- 

And Dick is performing simple -- 'simple' -- acrobatics for Cassandra -- 

"A moment, Lex. I must answer Hope's question --" 

"Lex's questions are more important," Hope says, and *taps* her gun-butts. 

"If you're --" But of course she's sure. Bruce turns to Lex. "Clark and I truly have found that measure of common ground, Lex." 

"But --augh!" 

"It's --" 

"Did you have sex with him?" 

"Yes --" 

"*Augh* --" 

"Should I shoot him, Lex." 

"Maybe -- wait, no, we're not doing that, anymore --" 

"Are you sure." 

Lex bites the tip of his thumb and seems to be considering the matter deeply -- "I'd miss him too much." 

"All right, Lex. Should I maim him." 

"No, no, and no injuries, either," Lex says, and blows out a breath. "Is he better?" 

Bruce frowns. "The two of you are far too different --" 

"Is he *better*." 

"Lex." 

Lex gestures Hope to step back and leans in close enough to whisper. "Cassandra demands a certain degree of emotional vulnerability." 

"Yes, I --" 

"I am *going* to ask stupid, irrational, and impossible-to-answer questions, Bruce." 

"I -- hm. How should I..." Bruce frowns. "You don't *like* flattery." 

"No, I don't." 

"Or... lies?" 

Lex hisses between his teeth. 

"You see my dilemma." 

"Yes. I. Do. I --" Lex growls and paces away -- 

And back -- 

And away -- 

And *back* --

Bruce reaches out to take his hand. 

Lex looks at him. 

Bruce raises Lex's hand to his mouth, raises an eyebrow, and kisses his fingers. 

"I -- see your eyes." 

"You always have." 

"Not always. Not -- I didn't *understand* --" 

"I," Bruce says, and kisses Lex's fingers again, "know the feeling." 

"But you -- not general you, *specific* you -- understand a lot more than you used to." 

"Yes." 

"You *knew* I'd lose it -- a *little* --" 

"Not very much, no --" 

"I'm not going to -- *legislate* you --" 

"It wouldn't suit you in the slightest --" 

Lex growls and yanks his hand away from Bruce, pushing it into Bruce's hair and pulling him close -- but not for a kiss. He rests his forehead against Bruce's own and growls again. 

"My love. I saw his eyes." 

"Oh, for the love of little *drummer* boys --" 

"Hm. Lex. About the Christmas carols --" 

"My employees voted -- seventy-three percent to twenty-four percent -- to pipe in holiday music to the public areas for November *and* December last year. I -- it broke me. A little." 

"Noted. Lex... I do not love you less." 

"But do you love me -- never mind -- no, answer the question anyway," Lex says and doesn't look *up* -- 

"Lex. I want you..." Bruce shivers and lifts Lex's chin. 

Lex looks *blackly* enraged -- 

"As little as I wish to put that expression on your face --" 

"You find it *attractive*, don't you?" 

"Yes --" 

Lex sighs. "So do Hope, Mercy, *and* Prudence. Cassandra tends to get far too *quiet* for it -- physically, I mean -- so I'm going to have to ask you to *keep putting it on my face to a minimum*." 

"As you say --" 

"*Answer the question*." 

Bruce kisses Lex, cupping the back of his head and licking into his mouth -- 

Lex stiffens -- and then *grips* Bruce's hips and pulls him closer, changing the kiss into many smaller ones, *softer* ones -- 

Bruce moans -- "I wish -- I wish for many things, but, right now, I wish I'd had had more time to teach you my heart, and for you to teach me yours." 

Lex takes a sharp breath and kisses him again, squeezes Bruce's hips. "Teach me *quickly*." 

"This, then: You both make me wish for more time --" 

"*He* was -- dating you without letting you know?"

"Tempestuously." 

Lex snorts. "Who *else*?" 

"I haven't the faintest clue... but I intend to find out." 

"So you *will* be joining their reindeer games?" 

"Reindeer -- Lex." 

"Look, you weren't *here* in December. People were honestly wearing things with giant *snowflakes* on them. By *choice*." 

"Hm. In answer to... one of your questions, I do intend to try to get to know more of them rather than judging them out of hand. I... I am not so proud, anymore." 

Lex pulls back and narrows his eyes, searching him -- 

And then turning to glance at Dick, who is balanced on one hand and doing a split. 

"Bruce..." 

"I love you, Lex. I have not yet fallen in love with Clark --" 

"But you *call* him that," Lex says, and turns to glare at Bruce again. "What the hell did you *see* in his eyes?" 

"Common ground --" 

"*Better* answers, please." 

"I..." Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "I saw need, and hunger, and loneliness. I saw hurt and pain -- two rather different things. I saw... a chance." 

Lex frowns. "That sounds like --" Lex growls and turns away again, a vein throbbing in his forehead -- 

Bruce kisses him there. "I will come to you -- and call to you -- for as long as I am allowed." 

"And as long as I -- behave." 

"You have a child now." 

"Thanks to you -- and Kent. And so do you --" 

"Thanks to you." 

"Bruce, I..." And Lex turns to glance at Dick once more -- 

He is balanced on both hands and *spinning* -- 

"Lex. Ask." 

"He is... affectionate." 

"Exceedingly so." 

"You welcome that." 

"Yes." 

Lex frowns and moves his hands to Bruce's chest, stroking there and then up to Bruce's shoulders -- 

Bruce's face -- 

His hands *shake* -- 

"Oh, Lex --" 

"I don't -- I didn't want to know this about you." 

Bruce winces -- 

"I didn't want to know it twelve *years* ago when I fired the first two people who put it in your psych profile and came close to *strangling* the third. I..." Lex kisses Bruce hard, backing Bruce up a step -- 

Another -- 

And the pillar is square and utilitarian, broad enough to be comfortable against Bruce's back -- 

Lex groans and kisses him deeply, powerfully -- 

He's talking to us, Brucie. 

But how to join the conversation? 

Just -- give it back.

Bruce hums and strokes Lex's cheekbones, lifts Lex's tongue on his own and urges it into his own mouth, sucks Lex's tongue and promises, holds, *keeps* -- 

And Lex shakes for him, strokes up to Bruce's chest and presses him back against the pillar -- 

*Scratches* at Bruce's chest through his shirt -- 

The elevator chimes and opens -- Prudence beckons Dick and Cassandra in. 

Bruce pulls back -- 

"She won't *hurt* them, Bruce, and -- they're hungry. All right?" And Lex seems almost *unsure* -- 

But they had chosen to make love to the man -- the *being* -- Lex had chosen to be his primary enemy. Bruce nods and strokes Lex's cheek again. "I trust you." 

"But -- you had something of a hiccup?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Something, yes." 

"You -- fell in love with him. Your *ward*." 

"Yes. Before --" Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "I saw him, and a part of myself... stopped." 

"And another part *began*." 

"Very much so. I was not prepared." 

Lex raises his eyebrows. "You were completely surprised... and so was the Fox?" 

"Yes. Apparently... apparently, I had hidden those desires more deeply even than I had hidden my desires for Mother." 

Lex frowns and strokes Bruce's chest, staring at the buttons on Bruce's pale gold shirt as if they are hiding information from him -- "No one else. No other -- no one else that young." 

"Never." 

"And -- in the future?" 

"I don't know. I -- the Fox won't let me make the sort of promise I wish to make."

Lex frowns more deeply. "I thought... I thought you wouldn't," and Lex laughs softly, resting his head on Bruce's shoulder. 

Bruce wraps his arms around Lex and kisses his forehead again. 

"I'll kill you if you touch Cassandra *remotely* inappropriately." 

"That is only correct." 

"I -- I'll *miss* you, damn it --" 

"I'll miss you --" 

Lex laughs and it sounds painful, desperate -- 

"Would you like to hit me?" 

"I've never wanted -- I've always *known* -- ah, Bruce, I want to *kill* your mother." 

"Rather a lot of people want to do her harm --" 

Lex bangs his head against Bruce's shoulder multiple times -- 

"Lex --" 

"It's -- incredibly *standard* for you to still be prepared to defend her. You realize that, right?" And Lex steps back and searches him again -- 

Bruce strokes Lex's mouth. "I'm not the one of us who strove toward iconoclasm." 

"Yes, yes, you wanted to be *normal* -- this doesn't *cut* it. Or -- be normal for something *else*." 

"Lex --" 

"*Please*!" 

"I have learned. I have... become, since last we discussed this. I..." Bruce strokes Lex's soft mouth again. "You are more beautiful than she is." 

Lex blinks. "You -- really?" 

"Other... other memories have risen --" 

"What did she *do* to you?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "She spoke to me with perfect, terrible honesty about her desires --" 

"*When*?" 

"I believe it happened when I was three." 

Lex looks horrified -- 

"I don't -- I don't seem to feel attraction to anyone younger than --" 

"Puberty?" 

"Yes." 

Lex nods and rubs Bruce's shoulders, his upper arms -- 

He lifts Bruce's hands and studies them -- "Fox, please." 

The Fox rises and takes his hands back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Lex looks up and raises his eyebrows. 

"Nothing, Lexie. Just -- needed a little self-contact." 

"Were -- either of you going to tell me?" 

"We knew you'd see it as soon as we got here. The question was whether or not you'd *want* us to lie to you." 

Lex frowns and reaches out to stroke the back of the Fox's left hand. "Never. I never want lies," he says, but his voice is -- too soft. 

"Lex --" 

"I think -- that I'm allowed to be a little --" Lex shakes his head once and turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Hope is being still and increasingly pissed *right* there -- 

*Does* she feel anger as we know it, Fox? 

*You're* the one who knows this stuff -- 

But -- do you *sense* -- 

All I sense is freak, freak, *freak* -- 

Fox. 

All right, that's *not* the whole truth, but it's *most* of the truth, and -- and Lex needs us more. 

I wish -- are you sure? 

I am, yeah. He wouldn't hurt this much if he didn't. The Fox pushes off from the pillar -- 

And Lex holds up a hand to stop him -- but his hand is shaking. 

The Fox takes it and squeezes. "What do you need?" 

"Something you can't give. Something --" Lex grits his teeth and turns back to face him. "What did *Alfred* say?" 

"Al pointed out what he could see..." The Fox shakes his head. "He knew, better than Bruce did, what would happen. He focused on trying to make Dick understand that he didn't owe us a damned thing." 

"Did that -- work?" 

"With us and Dinah drilling it in a little, too." 

"But that wasn't enough -- he crawled into bed with you." 

"Yeah." 

"And... seduced?" 

"With a kind of innocent -- no, not this, Lex. Don't make excuses for us --" 

"I'm *not*. I wouldn't -- ah, fuck," and Lex pinches the bridge of his nose again -- 

Presses on his black eye -- 

Hope takes two steps closer -- 

Lex holds up a hand to stop her -- 

And Hope is absolutely glaring at him. 

That answers the question about her capacity for anger. 

Yeah. Joy. 

Fox -- 

No, I know -- God, fuck, *Lex*... 

Yes. Must we. Must we always hurt those who love us? In one way or another? 

We -- I don't know, Brucie. 

Surely there is *some* way to do better? To -- to *improve* -- 

I don't know. I -- 

Lex shudders then. "I don't want to forgive you." 

"Then --" 

"Don't just tell me *not* to!" 

The Fox raises his hands and pushes at the air a little -- 

And Lex stares at his palms like maybe they're in the *process* of feeling Dick up -- and then he blinks, straightens his posture, and lifts his chin. 

"Cassandra won't like that." 

"Oh -- fuck you for being right." 

The Fox nods --

"And stop being *agreeable* --" 

"All right. Forgive me. Hold me. Love me even though I'm a child molester --" 

"You're *not* --" 

"I am, Lex. I am -- and this was always in me. Right from the word go. There's no cure, and there's *gonna* be another boy or girl somewhere down the line --" 

"*Fox* --" 

"The *only* thing I can promise is that it won't be rape, and that I'll know myself well enough by then to keep from pressuring the kid. Something I didn't manage entirely with Dickie." 

Lex winces -- 

Looks hurt and fucking *lost* -- 

The Fox grabs him and pushes him against the pillar, just hard enough to jar him a little. He gives Hope his back, knowing she's using it to draw a *bead* -- 

He breathes. He copes. And he stares into the eyes of the teenager a part of Lex may *always* be. He -- 

God help him, it *is* part of the appeal. It -- 

"You weren't supposed to be this much of a mess, Fox." 

"I know." 

"You weren't -- I was supposed to be able to have --" 

"You can have me --" 

"-- something good," Lex says, and his laugh sounds too goddamned much like a sob, too -- 

The Fox leans in and rests his forehead against Lex's again, breathes Lex's breath and holds on, wants, *wants* -- 

"But you love me." 

"When you hurt, I do, too. When you're happy --" 

"I won't *be* -- but of course that's not true." Lex laughs again, and it's a little better. A little. 

"I love you. I -- please, Lex." 

Lex shudders. "You'll actually beg for this." 

"For you," and the Fox rolls his forehead against Lex's, pulls back for long enough to kiss Lex's cheek -- 

Lex's other cheek and his mouth -- 

And Lex pulls him in to make it a real kiss, hot and wet and just a little wild. Just a little -- 

Febrile, Fox -- 

*Feverish*, because both of them are shaking, because both of them are more than a little cold inside -- 

It's their own *fault* -- 

The Fox shudders harder and groans, licks, bites and sucks and groans again -- 

"Fox. Fox, I *need* you --" 

"You'll always have me --" 

"*Bruce*." 

Bruce rises and cups Lex's face, strokes his soft, damningly delicate skin -- 

It's difficult to *say* whether Lex's skin is more smooth than Dick's, at this point, but that won't last. Dick was born for the sunlight. Lex -- 

Lex was, *too*, but that was taken away from him. Bruce is taking more with this kiss, holding and *demanding* -- 

Lex moans and pulls him closer, urges Bruce to *crush* him against the pillar -- 

Bruce pulls back -- 

"*Damn* you --" 

"*Please*." 

"Is it enough? Is it enough that I'm making you beg for it?" 

"No." 

"*Lie* -- but don't. Definitely -- don't ever fucking lie." 

Bruce nods once. 

"You looked at the dorm mothers like that whenever they'd *think* they were getting the whole truth out of you -- even then, you found ways to *massage* the truth." 

"Anything for Harvey -- and to be able to *have* Harvey." 

"And for me? What moral laws are you bending --" Lex growls. "I know that, too. I." 

"You were never *my* enemy --" 

"You *said* that already --" 

"It's still true." 

"Because --" Lex swallows and bangs the back of his head against the pillar. "Because you'd already bent and *twisted* yourself -- to have me." 

Bruce nods once. "Before I admitted to myself that I desired you." 

"Stop -- getting ahead of yourself." 

Bruce smiles. "I'm working on it." 

"I know you are. I know -- too much." 

"I'd like to be able to protect you from... something." 

Lex closes his eyes and smiles sharply. "But not yourself...?"

"Never that." 

"Never? What happens if this drives me into a tailspin, *Brucie*?" 

"You are greater than that --" 

"Why aren't *you*?" And Lex opens his eyes again, searches him again -- 

And Bruce lifts Lex's hand and rests it over his heart. "I wonder if I could be better if I could answer that question." 

"*Yes*. Knowing is -- knowing is well more than half of the battle." 

Bruce nods. "I haven't heard the matter phrased that way --" 

"You don't watch enough cartoons." 

"I -- all right?" 

"I had to see if there was anything suitable for Cassandra -- anyway," and Lex waves a hand. "You're a damaged, damaged man." 

"Yes."

"You're in love with -- how many people?" 

"Mother. Harvey. You. Dick."

"Not Dinah." 

"She is a friend." 

"Do you think -- are you doing something horrible like comparing every other woman to your mother?" 

Bruce frowns and opens his mouth -- 

The Fox coughs and points to the ballroom, where there are an even dozen *ghosts* of Mother. 

Hm. "I think it's possible that I do, yes. The Fox is helping me work on it." 

Lex frowns thoughtfully and nods -- and then gestures over Bruce's shoulder. That small sound is, almost certainly, Hope re-holstering her guns -- 

"I do not think that was a wise choice, Lex. I believe he will... cause more pain," Hope says. 

"Pain is, I'm afraid, part and parcel of love, Hope." 

"I am now confused." 

Lex steps around Bruce -- and covers Bruce's mouth with his fingers. "The pain is the price for -- and the spice to -- all of the more pleasant feelings." 

"This is not rational." 

"No, it's not." 

A ticking sound -- Hope is almost certainly drumming her short nails on the butts of her guns. "I would like to know why you feel he is... worth your pain, Lex." 

"The pleasure is indescribably intense when we make love. The emotional pleasure moves me to smile painfully wide rather often -- you've seen this. The pain... the pain reminds me that I am alive, and human, and relatively whole. The pain reminds me that I am in love with someone I can have -- truly have, in every way -- at least some of the time, and that is... that is something I have never had, at all." 

Bruce kisses Lex's fingertips -- 

Lex shivers -- 

And Hope drums her nails once more. "I wish to... improve." 

"Then you will, with time and care," Lex says, and there is a *warmly* rueful smile in his voice. "That said... I suspect I will still crave Bruce even once you do." 

"Because he is better." 

"Because he is Bruce, and because I am myself. I loved him while I was still only this, before I built the man who loves you, and Mercy, and Prudence. You, at least, would not wish me to be *only* that man." 

"I am aware of this, Lex. It remains... uncomfortable." 

"Tell me what you need." 

"I do not --" 

"Take your time." 

Hope breathes deeply and slowly for a minute -- 

Another -- 

"I require more information about what makes him... loveable. Both in general and to you." 

Lex strokes Bruce's mouth -- "I will think deeply on the matter, and then you will have it." 

"I may... continue to not understand." 

"I *will* continue to work to ease that for you." 

Another drum of short nails. "Yes, Lex. I believe Eva wishes to feed you more." 

Lex *taps* Bruce's mouth. "Then it wouldn't do to disappoint her, now would it...?"

"No, Lex." 

"Onward," Lex says, and strokes down the center of Bruce's chest before walking toward the elevators. 

Bruce walks at Lex's side -- and Hope follows them both. The ride up to the penthouse is far faster in this elevator than it was in the lead-lined one, and Lex dismisses Hope as soon as they arrive. He and Lex follow the scent of roasted fowl to the dining room -- 

Where Dick and Cassandra are doing an excellent job denuding a crisp-skinned duck of all its flesh at a relatively small table Lex must have just had moved in. 

Lex takes the head, Bruce takes the foot, and they serve themselves from what's left. Dick smiles at Bruce with simple pleasure and welcome. Cassandra studies Lex for a long moment -- 

And Lex opens himself visibly and with somewhat less effort than what he'd showed in the car. Cassandra frowns and points at *him* -- 

And Lex nods. 

Cassandra nods almost militarily and turns back to her food. 

They eat in companionable near-silence -- Cassandra and Dick make small sounds of pleasure now and then -- and, when they have finished, Lex points to Dick for Cassandra's benefit, then mimes happiness and excitement, running and clapping -- 

Cassandra nods again and slips down from her chair, moving around to take Dick's hand and lead him... somewhere. 

Dick waves to them as he goes. 

"There is... I may have turned my office into something of a toy room." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Just the office...?" 

Lex smiles and leans back in his chair, crossing his legs -- and batting his lashes. "She needed the extra space in her bedroom to get around comfortably." 

"Of course." 

"And -- the library was really rather dull. Before." 

"An unspeakable crime." 

Lex licks his teeth. "The rooftop greenhouse was... ah..." 

"Too green?" 

"Horrifically so." 

"As you say." 

"And -- ah." Lex coughs. "She *likes* the kitchen." 

Bruce blinks. "And... Eva?" 

Lex jabs at the table. "*Eva*... is one of the most naturally cheerful people I have *ever* known. *Honestly* cheerful, unlike certain other older women --" 

"Lex." 

"Yes, well." Lex plucks at the crease in his trousers. "Cassandra enjoys sharpening knives and humming Soviet marching songs with Eva while they both undoubtedly think of mayhem. I... am far too great to judge." 

"Of course." 

They speak companionably for a time of the projects Lex has begun to explicitly tempt himself away from supervillainy -- all quite complex *and* requiring top-level supervision -- and Bruce offers what suggestions he can. He -- 

"You make me feel every moment I *haven't* spent in my lab, Lex." 

Lex shows his teeth. "I don't have any ulterior motives with regards to that whatsoever, of course." 

"Mm. Improving -- and shrinking -- the body armor is my first priority --" 

"Can you *do* better than that skull-cap of yours?" 

"I'm honestly unsure. The impact dispersal is only adequate for small-caliber weapons, at this point." 

Lex winces. "I didn't want you to say that." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "If I can get it up to spec for thirty-eights... then I'd have something to build Dick's uniform around." 

"Yes, I imagine he *does* want to stay as *free* as possible --" Lex shakes his head once. "All right, work on the armor. And I will, too." 

"Lex --" 

"Are you honestly about to *argue* with me? About *this*?" 

Bruce hums. "Perhaps not." 

"Besides, if I can work another miracle or two for the U.S. military, I get one step closer to world domination. That's *always* diverting, darling."

Bruce smiles and leans back in his chair, crossing his own legs -- "I wouldn't want you to ever be bored. Darling."

And Lex... looks him over. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"He hit on you *at* the circus, didn't he." 

"Aggressively, despite the apparent awfulness of my clothes. He had no difficulty discerning my desire for him."

"What was wrong with --" Lex frowns. "You dressed casually, didn't you." 

"Yes." 

"You dressed -- just tell me there weren't loafers." 

"I... don't have very many casual clothes --" 

"We're having my tailor come in tomorrow." 

"Lex --" 

"I have four on retainer, Bruce. If I don't keep them busy they start getting *anxious*." 

"But... you must admit that the state of men's fashion for shoes --" 

"Is terrible. That's no reason for you to sink to the lowest possible level." 

"Lex --" 

"I'll be your best friend...?" And Lex waggles his thin, pale eyebrows at him. 

"Lex." 

"I'll... forgive you for all crimes committed up to this point?" 

Bruce opens his mouth -- and closes it again. And frowns. 

Lex plucks an alstroemeria from the centerpiece and tucks it into his lapel before folding his hands together on his knee. And that -- 

"I'd very much like to make love to you -- " 

"Let me dress you. The tailor will need barely forty minutes to learn your Herculean measurements, and we can spend the time in light, homosocial conversation while Dick teaches Cassandra how to have fun and Cassandra teaches Dick how to have fun while maiming people." 

"Hm. It's a date."

Lex smiles brightly and takes a sip of water from his tumbler before gesturing Bruce to drink more wine. 

Bruce does so -- 

"I've decided that I'm going to get used to how agreeable you are." 

"Perhaps you will allow me to help with that." 

Lex hums. "Perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps I'll just set up shop in Gotham for a while." 

Bruce smiles helplessly -- 

"Really. That's your reaction?" 

"Yes...?" 

Lex frowns. "Hm. No, go back to pretending not to be agreeable." 

"All right. No, Lex, I don't want to spend large amounts of time with you while you update my wardrobe and do terribly interesting things in my lab." 

Lex's gaze glazes over for a long moment. 

Bruce hums and spins a knife over his fingers -- 

"That should be a *scalpel*." 

"We could always visit *your* labs." 

Lex *narrows* his eyes. "Tease." 

"I believe you'll find --" 

"Do you have any *idea* how badly I wanted to watch you dissect things when we were in school?" 

Bruce blinks. "That's rather -- ah. You wanted to see whether I looked at the dead creatures the way I looked at you." 

Lex snickers briefly -- coughs. "I *also* wanted to see how deft you were with a sharp object, as the knives in the dining hall most assuredly did *not* count." 

"I would've joined the fencing club if you had --" 

"*I* would've joined the fencing club if *you* had, Bruce." Lex looks sour. "That's it, I'm going to make a working time machine and go back to the seventies for long enough to shove my teenaged self into your pants." 

Bruce laughs softly. "A tight fit." 

"You *had* room. Sluttiness like yours is bred in the *bone*." 

"So to speak...?" 

Lex looks horrified. 

Bruce touches his tongue to his upper lip. "I blame the Fox...?" 

You lying *bastard* -- 

"That's not *his* style, and you know it!" 

Okay, *make* him come back to Gotham with us -- 

"Wait, was that *Dick*?" 

Bruce tugs at his own crease. "I admit nothing." 

"You don't have to make yourself his *age*, Bruce. I *promise* that's not how it works." 

Bruce cocks his head to the side. 

"I made a *study* of it after the *fifth* independent shrink -- " Lex growls and turns away. 

"I'm sorry --" 

"I *like* being angry all the time!" 

"Ah... do you?" 

"I -- have no idea. None whatsoever." 

"Hm." 

"You'd think it would be something I'd have an opinion -- let's go say goodnight to the children," Lex says, and stands. 

Bruce stands, as well. "Have you given Cassandra a bedtime? I know she's still on Asian time --" 

"She sleeps like a soldier, Bruce. If I -- or Eva, or Hope, or Mercy, or Prudence -- pantomime sleep, she will put herself out right then and there. Whether or not she's anywhere near a bed, or dressed in pajamas." 

Bruce winces and follows Lex out of the dining room. "Of course. I should have thought. Nightmares?" 

"Silent and terrible. I have the Virtues watching her rest in shifts so that they can wake me for them. I'm worried that she'll learn how to regulate her body movements in her sleep." 

"It is, unfortunately, a possibility." 

"Because *you* do that without even thinking, yes?" 

"Yes. I only... I only remember the dreams I ask the Fox to share with me." 

"Well -- *do* you sleep peacefully?" 

Bruce smiles. "There have been times when I've woken up feeling -- oddly -- poorly-rested. But those nights are relatively rare." 

"If she could compartmentalize *that* way --" 

"Lex." 

"I know, I *know* --" Lex sighs and stops in the hall near a Magritte. Lex straightens it somewhat obsessively and inaccurately -- 

Bruce re-straightens it -- 

"Thank you. I have no idea how to -- how to help her grow up sane. It's too much. Her scars are --" Lex frowns and stares at nothing. 

Bruce cups his shoulder -- 

Lex covers his hand and frowns *terribly* -- 

"Lex --"

"Her body looks like *yours*, Bruce," and Lex's voice is a low and *pained* whisper. "Only -- she chose none of it." 

"Are there signs of --" 

"Attachment disorder? I don't think so. There is life in her eyes, connection and the desire to connect *more*." 

Bruce nods. "That fits our own observations. I think -- how *is* she with your Virtues?" 

"She's enjoying rehab with Mercy, who likes the way she throws knives at things, and also the way she makes me *stop* thinking wistfully about Mercy's uterus. Prudence she finds distasteful -- she's working on learning how not to lie with *every* word. Hope figured out how to hug her immediately -- she really is good at that -- but Cassandra finds her lengthy bouts of... absence confusing. I've caught them staring at each other for ten minutes at a time and more. Eventually, their blinks sync up." 

"I -- hm." 

Lex -- giggles. And then coughs. "Sometimes. I won't say it never gets to me." 

"'It'." 

"Yes, *it*. The whole -- the lunatics ruling the asylum with an iron fist and piles and *piles* of weaponry. The asylum itself being just -- riddled with holes." 

"Bullet holes?" 

"*Mortar* holes. Which reminds me, I *have* something for you." 

The Fox rises. "The way to a man's heart is through all the *juicy* bits, Lexie." 

Lex snorts, blinks, and cocks his head at him, smiling wryly. "Are you here to reassure me about my ability to raise a healthy child, Fox?" 

"Nah, you just caught my attention with all that boom-boom talk. But, if you'd *like*..." 

"Yes, I *would* like." 

"All right," and the Fox nods toward the open door at the end of the hall. There's warm light spilling from it, and the Fox can *just* hear Dickie's occasional giggles. "You're doing it right." 

"I needed a thirteen-year-old boy to teach me how to *connect* --" 

"You already knew, Lexie. You were just fighting off the knowledge out of fear and shame." 

Lex's *lip* curls -- but then he firms his lips together in a hard line and nods. "Go on." 

"You're making a good home for her. *Part* of the abuse she's suffered means that she's always gonna *know* you're doing it for her, and know *why* you're doing it for her. That's -- that's more than a whole lot of kids *ever* get." 

Lex frowns. "And that reminds me -- one of *your* lunatics wound up out here. Some second-stringer going by the Cluemaster." 

"Hunh? Never heard of him." 

"Oh, he's --" Lex waves a hand. "Hair-band quality blond mop, relatively tall, more rangy than broad *or* lean. Piggy little eyes." 

The Fox raises a hand and thinks about it -- 

No, we have no memory of anyone like that. 

"Yeah, I got nothin'. What'd he do?" 

"Oh -- he tried to be the Riddler. Only he was heterosexual and dull about it. Nothing important -- the ubermensch traced him by his Gotham accent and brought him in before he could so much as *inconvenience* more than a handful of people... but that wasn't good enough for the six o'clock news." 

"Ugh. What'd *they* do?" 

"The Cluemaster -- Arthur Brown -- was renting in a Suicide Slum tenement with his wife and four-year-old daughter. Who had her crying face plastered all over the news as the wife did her best to carry her inside past the *phalanx* of reporters." 

"*Christ*." 

Lex nods and rubs his temple. "She... the little girl's name is Stephanie. She was wearing... a little blue blanket for a cape. Cassandra happened to be in the room while I was watching and did her best to climb through the television to get to her. I think... I think there's a play-date in her future." 

"Maybe more than one...?" 

"Of course, it all depends -- " Lex mutters something unintelligible and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

The Fox cups his hip and squeezes for a moment -- 

"I like that." 

"So do I." 

"I like that too damned much." 

"I disagree." 

"I was *immune* to children before!" 

Bruce rises and *strokes* Lex's hip. "That certainly seemed to be the case." 

"That *was* the -- let's go say *goodnight*," Lex says, turning and moving down the hallway at speed. 

Bruce follows -- 

And Dick is flying a Superman action figure -- 

"I will *hurt* you," Lex whispers, and hangs back in the shadows. 

"As you say." Dick is flying the action figure around the tall and somewhat wobbly tower Cassandra is building with books, Wegos, blocks -- 

The tower falls -- 

Cassandra points to Dick -- 

"*I'll* save you, Miss!" And Dick's voice booms with the artificial depth of a ringmaster as he flies 'Superman' around and around the ruins -- 

Until he zooms in to one particular part -- and plucks out a small, smiling cloth doll with Asian features. The doll is too large for 'Superman' to carry, but Dick holds them together anyway and flies them around the room while Cassandra claps. 

"I'm not sure how I feel about the alien rescuing her from *me*," Lex whispers. 

"The tower might have been metaphorical --" 

Cassandra gets up and limps to the doorway -- 

"Hey, Bruce. Hey, Lex. Crash-time?" 

"Yes," Bruce says -- 

And Cassandra takes Lex's hand and pulls him into the light so that she can better study him. 

Lex smiles and strokes her hair with his free hand -- 

Cassandra reaches up to *thump* Lex's chest. 

"Yes? Wait," and Lex makes himself into a question. 

Cassandra nods and thumps her own chest. "Cassandra." And then she thumps Lex's chest again. 

"Ah -- *Lex*," Lex says slowly, exaggerating the movement of tongue and teeth. 

"Rekiss." 

Lex swallows and shivers, eyes widening -- 

"*Rekiss*," she says -- 

"Close enough," and Lex drops into a crouch and opens his arms -- 

She thumps his chest *hard* -- 

"Ow, all right, *not* close enough. *Le-ex*." 

"Leh-ecks," and she gestures for him to speak again -- 

"Le-*ex*." 

"Leh-*ex*!" She smiles then, thumping Lex's chest again and again. "Lecks! Lecks!" 

Lex swallows again, and the smile is shaky on his face -- 

And Cassandra begins patting his cheeks immediately -- then shakes her head once and pushes close, hugging Lex tightly around the neck and petting in long, sure strokes she must have learned from Dick. 

Bruce turns to check -- Dick is separating blocks from Wegos from books. Superman is standing guard -- arms akimbo -- over the cloth doll, and the rest of the office is quite neat. 

Waiting for Lex to start another day as one of the most powerful people in the world. 

Bruce crouches to help Dick clean -- 

"I got this, Bruce." 

"Just the same. Did you have fun tonight?" 

"Uh, huh. I'd forgotten how much I *liked* playing games like this sometimes. I -- um. You know how I was playing most of the time." 

Bruce hums. "So I do." 

"So -- yeah. She's gonna be fine, I think. She's just like any other kid. Though I think she taught me how to cripple a guy with just a strike to the shoulder." 

Bruce considers -- and mimes striking Dick just *there*. 

"Yeah, that's the one. Uh. How bad *is* it?" 

"Crippling," Bruce says, and hums again. "Though only temporarily. The Fox uses it fairly often to... even the odds when in a melee situation." 

"*Nice*. I mean -- uh. It's *okay* that she's teaching me, right?" 

"I would -- and will -- have you learn from as many sources as possible. If it is *possible* for you to learn from someone, I want you to take that opportunity and run with it," Bruce says, and takes the pile of books to the bookcase. "I do not know everything about the martial arts, and I do not know everything *you* will be able to do with your different strengths and weaknesses. In the future, Cassandra may very well be an excellent sparring partner for you -- assuming she wishes to continue to learn." 

Dick snickers. 

"Yes?" 

And Dick points toward the doorway, where Cassandra and Lex are having something like a *fraction* of a spar, Cassandra throwing light strikes designed to not quite hit, and Lex using the lightest possible blocks. 

Cassandra is giggling -- 

And Lex is making decidedly ridiculous faces. 

Bruce hums again. "Yes, I believe I take your point, Dick." 

Abruptly, Cassandra spins on her good leg and kicks out with her *injured* leg, missing Lex's groin by millimeters. 

Lex's expression wouldn't be out of place on a sad clown -- 

And Cassandra claps and giggles and limps around the room with her arms raised in victory. 

"I wonder," Lex says, and stands, "where she learned that." 

Bruce shakes his head. "I couldn't say. Or --" 

Dick whistles a fanfare with an innocent expression on his face. 

"A-ha." Lex brings his hands together and bows. "Point to the young man who should pick a bedroom --" 

"I'm good, Lex," Dick says, and scoops the last of the Wegos into the box before standing and grinning. "Prudence put me in the room next to Cass'. I think it's time for *you* to pick a room, though." And Dick waggles his eyebrows. 

Lex coughs. "Yes -- well. Cassandra, darling, please don't pick up your entire sense of humor from Dick." 

"Lecks! Lecks! Lecks!" And Cassandra continues her victory lap -- 

Until Dick mimes sleep and takes her hand. 

She thumps *his* chest -- 

"Yow -- I. *Dick*." 

"*Deck*." 

"Diiick." 

"Dehhhck." 

"Ihhh." 

She frowns and pulls on the tip of her tongue -- "Ihhh?" 

Dick grins and nods. "*Dick*." 

"*Thick*." 

Dick snickers and mimes letting go of his tongue. 

"Dihhck." 

"Diiick." 

"*Dick*."

"Yep!" 

Cassandra raises her arms and -- wiggles. 

"Dick." 

"What? She's gonna *need* to know how to do that when she's beating up supervillains." 

Lex stands. "She's not *going* to -- " 

Dick glares at him. 

"It will, of course, be entirely up to her," and Lex glares at *him* -- 

The Fox rises and blows Lex a kiss -- and then turns to lift Cassandra so that she can better thump *his* chest. "*Fox*." 

"Kuh," and she points at Lex, "*kuh*," and she points at Dick, "*kuh*, and she points at him. "*Focks*." 

"That's just right, honey --" 

And then she thumps his chest... to one side. 

The Fox grins and inclines his head -- 

And Bruce rises. "Bruce. Broo-sss." 

Cassandra looks -- dismayed. And thumps Bruce's chest again. 

"Broo. Sss." 

"Boo --" Cassandra shakes her head vigorously and gestures for down. 

Bruce sets her down -- 

She mimes sleep, grips Dick's hand, and goes, pausing only to hug Lex's leg. 

Lex waits until they're out of earshot -- and then snickers. 

"No, Lex, I *haven't* hated my name this much before tonight." 

"Hee hee -- the look on her *face*." 

"Yes. Rather like I'd asked her to spell onomatopoeia. Backwards." 

"It *isn't* the easiest phoneme." 

"If I recall correctly," Bruce says, and lifts the doll *and* the action figure onto Lex's desk -- 

And Clark is simply there, hovering outside the window... with a small camera. 

"Oh, no, you --" 

Clark takes the picture, blows *Bruce* a kiss, and flies. 

"*Augh*!"

"Lex --" 

"Insufferable, smug, objectivist --" 

"I really don't think --" 

Lex growls at him. 

Bruce hums, and watches Lex pick up the receiver of his telephone -- 

Lift it high above his head -- 

And *not* brutalize the perfectly cheerful little action figure with it. 

He hangs it up again. 

"Your restraint is noted, Lex," and Bruce opens his tie. 

"I just wanted to be *fair*. He wears those nice, non-threatening colors!" 

"You haven't found the red to be aggressive?" 

"The red of *your* uniform accents is the approximate shade of blood that was spilled just recently enough to have only *started* to get tacky. *His* red could be on *balloons*." 

"*Aren't* they making a Superman balloon for this year's Thanksgiving Parade?" 

"*RAUGH*." 

Bruce picks up Lex's hand and places his tie on the palm.

"I -- hm. You were saying? Before the Supercockblocker showed up?" 

Bruce looks pointedly at Lex's groin. 

"It's a *metaphor*! *Talk*!" 

Bruce smiles and shrugs off his jacket -- 

"Talk. Talk -- you were *saying* something about your *childhood*." 

"And you need that information?" 

"*Badly*. 

"When I was a child, I was convinced my name was Boof." 

"Oh -- Bruce." 

"Later, it was Bloofs." 

Lex bites his lip -- stops. "Was there... baby talk?" 

"I used blankets, pacifiers, and diapers -- not blankies, bobos, or nappies." 

"Did they expect *you* to say those words?" 

"*I* expected me to say those words. Alfred tells me I spent much of my infancy and toddlerhood with a thunderous frown on my face, save --" 

"When you were with your mother?" 

Bruce smiles and tosses his jacket on the desk -- 

"You're not going to fuck me in here." 

"It's a very nice office." 

"Are you marking your *territory*?" 

Bruce checks -- 

Yeah, maybe a little. 

Oh -- hm. 

The good news is that you have good reasons for it. 

I... do? 

Yeah, take a look. And the Fox offers him the memory of the *first* time Harvey had gripped the back of his neck and held him down while taking him -- 

("Bruce. *Bruce* --" 

"*Yes*, Harv --" 

"Oh -- fuck me, I *need* you --" 

"I'm *here* --") 

And Harvey had cried out -- 

Clutched and pushed and cried *out*, over and over, and it had taken much, much too long to realize -- 

("*Mine* -- you're *mine* --") 

And Bruce had never felt so loved, so -- so held *within* love, so *happy* -- 

And he wasn't able to confirm it until *after* his orgasm had transported him, at which point he'd shouted it until he was *hoarse*. 

Together, they had made up a story about attending an exciting baseball game... and spent even more time in the carriage house. 

So, yeah. *Good* reason to be a caveman. 

He did seem to *like* the grunting -- 

Lex clears his throat. 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Sorry. Compelling memory." 

"Of *other* times you've marked your territory?" 

Bruce steps close and strokes Lex's chin, tilting his head up -- "Other times I've *had* my territory marked." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "Harvey." 

"Yes. He made me feel quite loved. As have you." 

"You want to return the favor." 

"Badly." 

Lex nods thoughtfully and cups Bruce through his trousers -- 

And Bruce begins thickening immediately, before Lex so much as *strokes* -- 

You're welcome, Brucie. 

As you say, and Bruce covers Lex's hand and urges him to *grip*. 

"Is this mine tonight, Bruce...?" 

Bruce parts his lips and leans in close enough to breathe Lex's breath. "If you'd like." 

Lex frowns -- no. It's a *fraction* of a wince. "You'll hurt me." 

"I'll go... slowly." 

The wince gets deeper -- and Lex's penis twitches visibly. 

"Lex..." 

"Bedroom." 

"May I carry --" 

"I'm not going to ask you if you're high, Bruce." 

"All right --" 

"I'm just going to look at you." Lex looks at him. 

"Hm. After you." 

Lex inclines his head -- and drags Bruce by his grip on Bruce's penis. 

"Did you doubt I would follow?" 

"If *you* are allowed to be a Neanderthal, then *I* am allowed to be a Neanderthal." 

"As you say." 

Prudence is waiting in the hall leading to the kitchen, using a file on her fingernails which has, in its turn, been filed to a vicious point. 

Lex tests the edge on his fingertip, then drags his blood over her upper lip. "Wear the teddy tonight. The powder blue one." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor." 

"Who has which shift tonight?" 

"Mercy, then me." 

Lex hums and squeezes Bruce *meditatively* hard -- 

Bruce inhales sharply -- 

And Prudence gives him a *hotly* narrow look. 

You know, Brucie, you don't *have* to keep meeting their eyes. 

I truly do, Fox -- 

The Fox sighs. Fine. But you have no idea what I'm being forced to look at in order to keep you from drooping like a wind-sock in the eye of a tornado.

Noted -- 

"Prudence..." 

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?" Her voice is breathy and low... and she's allowing the blood to run down to the corner of her mouth. 

"Start working on finding someone innocuous enough not to terrify an apparently psych-standard nurse and her daughter when she invites them to join Cassandra and me." 

Prudence makes something of a moue. "Does it *have* to be a woman, Mr. Luthor?" 

"Oh, yes, darling. *You* need the *practice*. Go." 

Prudence inclines her head, folds her hands behind her back, and walks away with curiously small and shuffling steps. 

"Before you ask --" 

"I truly didn't plan to do anything of the kind --" 

Lex laughs... rather evilly. And continues to drag Bruce toward the bedrooms. "She's trying to tempt me toward leaving her in ankle cuffs more often." 

"That seems... problematic for a bodyguard." 

"Just so. Still, her birthday is coming up. We'll see. I note that you managed to stay... on point." 

"The Fox was apparently perusing my mental library at speed in order to do just that." 

"Hm. *What* was he -- no. No. Don't tell me." 

Bruce shows his teeth. "Are you *sure*...?" 

"*Yes* --" 

"I wouldn't want your curiosity to go... unsatisfied."

"Frosty the *Snowman*, Bruce, don't *tell* me!" 

Bruce laughs softly -- and then *grunts* for the feel of Lex squeezing hard -- 

*Tugging* hard -- 

Using Bruce's body to close the *door* -- "*Lex* --" 

And Lex drops to his knees, graceful and sure, deft as he works on Bruce's shoes and socks -- 

Bruce's trousers and boxer-briefs -- 

And then he rests his forehead against Bruce's pubis and breathes slowly and deeply for several beats. 

Bruce strokes Lex's cheek. "Nothing you do not want with --" 

"I don't want *anything* with all of myself, Bruce. You should know that about me by now." 

"I... beg to differ." 

"Cassandra is a special *case* --" 

"I have no difficulty pushing past objections you believe you *should* have, Lex. They're rather different from objections you actually *do* have." 

"I have. I want -- tell me what happens after this," Lex says, and kisses a path along Bruce's shaft. 

Bruce sighs. "We hold each other. We make each other laugh. We ask several abortive questions about our other lovers." 

"You *never* ask." 

"The Fox tends to make me look at terrible things when I make us think too deeply about the Virtues. There are... reflexes." 

Lex smiles and bends Bruce's penis down enough to mouth the head wetly, *softly* -- 

"Lex --" 

"You are --" Lex shakes his head and sucks *hard* -- 

Bruce grunts and strokes Lex's lips, his cheeks. "I'd rather not lose control... quickly." 

Lex raises an eyebrow -- and pulls back, licking his lips. "I feel... I have no compunctions about you fucking my throat -- don't be agreeable." 

Bruce nods. "Let me make love to you. Let me take you. Let me *drive* you --" 

"Mad, Bruce...?" 

Bruce smiles. "Perhaps if I do it correctly --" 

"Have you fucked him, yet?" 

"Lex." 

"I'm waiting for the urge to abort that question. I..." Lex frowns and *licks* Bruce's shaft -- 

"Lex. I believe you're waiting for me to tell you something that would allow you to change your mind... without regret." 

Lex's smile is sharply private -- and then nothing of the kind when he looks up to meet Bruce's eyes. "I regret every moment that I don't have every*thing* with you, Bruce." 

That -- 

It's necessary to drop, to kneel and stroke and push and *move* until Lex is on his back on the soft, plush carpeting and Bruce can kiss him, taste himself in Lex's mouth and open his shirt with one hand -- 

His pants -- 

And Lex arches into his touch immediately, groans and *shakes* -- 

Bruce stabs in with his tongue and pushes Lex's boxer briefs down *enough* -- 

Lex turns away -- and moans *loudly*. 

"Lex..." 

Lex pants -- "There has to be room for reasonable *fear*." 

"Of course." 

"And -- you haven't gotten any smaller." 

"I believe that could happen very quickly if I upset you around Hope again." 

Lex snickers -- and covers his face with his hands. "She's -- a softie. Really." 

Bruce hums and presses his tongue into Lex's suprasternal notch -- 

Lex gasps -- 

Gurgles *faintly* --

And pushes him back.

"Lex --" 

"Don't ask anymore. Don't seduce. Don't be *reasonable*. Just push me so -- so *fucking* hard that I forget *how* to be this fucked-up." 

"Then this," and Bruce lifts Lex into his arms -- 

"Oh, you *ass* --" 

"One must always leave room for romance," and Bruce lays Lex out on the bed, stripping them both down the rest of the way -- and doing it quickly and *gently*. 

"Romance is -- is --" 

"Dead, Lex...?" Bruce licks Lex's navel, grips his hips and *takes* his navel -- 

Lex pants and pushes his hands into Bruce's hair -- "There isn't even any *cologne* there --" 

Bruce laughs and licks up between Lex's pectoral muscles, moving his hands to Lex's shoulders -- 

"Do you plan on holding me *down*?" 

"Perhaps --" 

Lex sneers. 

"You're absolutely stunning when you're disagreeable." 

"And beautiful when I'm angry?" 

"And when you're not," and Bruce licks Lex's cheek -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

Bruce kisses Lex, resting *some* of his weight on him -- enough to make Lex gasp his mouth open. He strokes down Lex's arms until he can twine their fingers together -- 

Lex *bucks* -- 

And Bruce knows he's found a fantasy, a *need* -- 

*One* day, we gotta get him to *tell* us about those fantasies, Brucie. 

Agreed. I have no doubt that he'll find ways to make them our own. 

The Fox purrs -- 

And Bruce makes the kiss more wet, less *neat* -- 

Lex shudders and catches Bruce's tongue in his mouth, sucks and grinds his hips -- 

Bruce grinds *his* hips -- and spreads Lex's legs with his own -- 

Lex cries out into his mouth -- 

So *soon* --

He wants this, Brucie -- 

And Bruce can't help but growl his way out of the kiss, can't keep himself from looking down into Lex's eyes -- 

Lex *closes* his eyes -- 

Bruce kisses his eyelids. "Anything to help you relax. Anything to make this better for you --" 

Lex grits his teeth. "I'm not -- don't *coddle* me --" 

Bruce bites Lex's lower lip hard -- 

Lex grunts, thighs spasming -- 

Bruce turns Lex's head and licks into his ear, does it again and then kisses, nibbles the shell and the lobe -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"I want every part of you, Lex," Bruce says, letting his voice be as low and rough as it wants to be. "I want... more." 

Lex growls -- 

And Bruce uses the Fox's speed to push up, flip Lex over, and spread him wide -- 

"*Fuck* --" 

"My love. I will never use you." 

Lex pants and shudders -- 

"I will always... always *need* you," and Bruce licks the length of Lex's cleft -- 

Cologne. 

Bruce hums and licks again -- 

Again -- 

"Bruce --" 

"You are not swollen, my love. This will be... easier than it might have been --" 

"You didn't give me enough *time* -- and I'm not complaining," Lex says, laughing quietly -- and spreading his legs wider. 

"Thank you," and Bruce kisses Lex's anus -- 

Lex cries out -- and cries out again when Bruce makes the kiss deep, *wet* -- 

Bruce groans for it and the hints of sweat and of the mild, sweet soap which couldn't have been used very long before they had flown into Metropolis airspace. Lex had *prepared* for him, and even having known that he would -- 

Bruce pulls back to pant, to breathe *hot* on Lex's anus -- 

Lex growls and shudders -- 

"I. Lex, I will not have *enough* control if I continue --" 

"Then *don't* --" 

"As you say," and Bruce flips Lex over again and swallows him -- 

"*Bruce* -- fuck --" 

Bruce nods and begins taking himself with Lex's penis, shifting enough that he can cup Lex's scrotum, squeeze and massage -- 

Lex groans and pulls his knees up, plants his feet -- 

Bruce nods again and *urges* -- 

"I won't -- I won't *come* --" 

Bruce sucks *hard* --

"Christmastime in the *city* -- *nnh* -- you don't have to make it that *challenging*." 

Bruce hums, choking himself off every time he takes Lex in -- 

Lex groans and cups Bruce's head, thrusting in the same rhythm Bruce had chosen for a minute -- 

And then moaning and thrusting *slowly*, *sensuously* -- 

Bruce moans and grips Lex's hips, riding the motion and closing his eyes -- 

"I won't -- I won't use *you*." 

Lex... 

"Unless you *want* that sort of -- and I know you *do* sometimes -- I should *kill* Harvey --" 

Bruce shakes his head and squeezes Lex's hips -- 

"You're too *nice* -- there's nothing *wrong* with -- with wreaking terrible vengeance --" 

Bruce works his tongue -- 

Lex groans and shudders - 

Thrusts *harder* -- 

And slows down again and pants -- "You -- he let you *go*, and -- have you let *him* go?" 

Bruce nods -- 

"*Liar* --" 

Bruce shakes his head -- and looks up to meet Lex's eyes. 

"You're *serious*. You -- " Lex grunts and pants -- 

Shudders again and *tugs* Bruce's hair -- 

Bruce pulls back enough to make love to the head -- 

"Oh -- I can't take --" 

Bruce swallows Lex again -- 

Lex groans and *growls* -- "All right. You. You've clearly decided to grow *up*. And that's -- that's a *valid* choice." 

But...? 

"It's not *allowed* -- oh, fucking hell, what did I just *say*?" 

Bruce swallows back the laughter as best as he can -- 

He doesn't do a very good job, at *all* -- 

"Fuck. *You*," and Lex thrusts *harder* -- but no faster. He -- 

The force and *hunger* -- 

The always *mild* taste of Lex's sweat and the stronger taste of his pre-ejaculate --

Bruce lets go of Lex's hip and reaches down to squeeze his own penis, to promise and *soothe* -- 

"Oh -- Bruce. Bruce, you're going to --" Lex shudders and *grips* Bruce's hair. "I want -- I want *more*. 

Then... 

"I don't *want* to let go -- all right, I do, but -- " Lex groans and *yanks* his hands out of Bruce's hair --

And that's enough of a cue to pull off -- no. Bruce leans in and takes Lex's scrotum in his mouth, sucks and *holds* -- 

So warm and *tight* -- 

Lex groans -- 

Pants and reaches for him -- 

"Bruce. Bruce, I'm going to *need* your mouth back if you --" 

Bruce nods and pulls off, kissing and nibbling for another few moments only -- 

Lex arches for the *light* scrape of Bruce's teeth on his penis -- 

Bruce licks to soothe, to *taste* -- 

Kisses his way up to Lex's nipples, and yes, he's holding Lex down now, but he must provide pleasure, must taste and *feel* -- 

Lex cups Bruce's head -- 

Lets go -- 

*Grips* -- 

Lets go -- "*Bruce* --" 

Bruce groans and nods, sucking Lex's nipple hard for a moment before pulling off -- 

And Lex hands him a half-empty bottle of STARslide. 

Bruce edges back and kisses the caps of Lex's knees -- 

"We really need to discuss -- ah." 

Bruce slicks his fingers and raises an eyebrow. 

"Something. Definitely --" Lex squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head against the pillow -- 

"I *will* pleasure you." 

"Yes, of *course* you -- there's no convenient *end*!" 

Bruce blinks -- 

He means -- 

Yes. "You can stop me at any --"

"Don't *say* that!" 

All right. Uh. Try -- 

Yes. Bruce cups the underside of Lex's right knee, pushing it back *slightly* -- 

Lex *gasps* -- and flexes open. 

"Lex," Bruce says, and pushes in slowly with one finger --

"Fuck. *Fuck*." 

"I love you. And I love the feel of you. I've wanted --" 

"How *long*?" 

"The Fox showed me a fantasy of you from when we were fifteen --" 

"What did you *want*?" 

"Your mouth, mostly. Harvey had to explain anal sex to me --" 

"You never -- *hnh* --" 

"Yes, I believe I will continue to do this," and Bruce rocks his way out and in again -- 

*Up* again -- 

"I was, of course, *fascinated* by well-shaped posteriors before then..." 

Lex gasps and snorts -- 

Bruce smiles and crooks his finger *hard* -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"Lex." 

And the Fox offers a view of Lex's room at Exeter that Bruce had never actually seen -- 

It's from -- 

The bed, yes. Lex's leaner and *paler* body is stretched beneath him -- 

Lex is *gripping* the upper corners of the institutionally thin mattress -- 

"Bruce, come *back* --" 

"You, Lex. On your bed. On..." Bruce licks his lips -- "I can't wait," and Bruce slips his finger out and *tests* at Lex's anus with two fingers -- 

"*Do* it --" 

"Will the pain be --" 

"I *want* it --" 

"-- too much of a distraction...?" 

Lex grits his teeth and bangs his head against the pillow, reaches up to grip the mattress -- 

"That, Lex. That... motion," Bruce says, and slips back in with one to ease the way, to slick him and *pleasure* -- 

"More, then. Just --" 

"It was the room you had as a junior. Harvey and I had begun taking each other with our fingers... often --" 

Lex grunts -- 

"This thrust then. I see," and Bruce uses it, lengthening the motions and wishing for longer fingers, *stronger* fingers. "I'd imagined you already stretched. Already... open." 

"I wasn't --" 

"I know that now. Then... I had only my suspicions. Lex. Lex, I offered everything I was taught to you. You accepted --" 

"With bad *grace*?" 

Bruce laughs and slows down -- 

"Oh -- no, not --" 

"All right," and Bruce increases his speed again -- 

Lex *blushes* -- 

"Oh... beautiful --" 

"Tell me -- just *tell* me --" 

"In the fantasy, you are on your stomach --" 

"Never -- don't *listen* to me --" 

"I can see the lean muscle of your back, the surprisingly generous curve of your buttocks. In the fantasy, you enjoy the feel of my stubble on your skin. You urge me to rub you *raw* --" 

Lex groans -- "Maybe -- maybe for my back --" 

"And your buttocks. I kiss you and you sigh and scratch at your silk sheets -- the peach ones, in particular --" 

Lex laughs breathlessly. "I -- you're marvelously mad." 

"As you say," and Bruce pours on more lubricant -- 

"*Oh* --" 

And pushes in with two fingers. Slowly. 

"Fuck. Fuck. *Bruce* --" 

And then not slowly, at all -- 

"*Ahn* -- " And Lex arches -- 

"Lex. You're making me *ache*." 

"I --" Lex squeezes his eyes shut and strokes himself once, twice -- 

Groans and stops, reaching up to grip again -- 

"You are... the flex and release of your muscles --" 

"Don't -- I -- I'm *aware* that I'm attractive -- *deeply* attractive, even --" 

"The flush is dramatic on your skin. Beneath your skin... Lex." 

Tell him -- 

"The Fox is offering me countless fantasies to share... but this one. The one where you grip at the edges of the mattress --" 

Lex stiffens and *gasps*, opens his eyes -- 

Bruce nods. "You show me yourself in extremis. You offer... you offer that *gift*." 

Lex pants -- 

Clenches and cries out -- 

"Oh. Lex --" 

"More. Please --" 

Bruce squeezes the back of Lex's knee and makes his strokes as long as possible, as *deep* as possible -- 

Lex tosses his head, penis twitching again and again -- 

*Bruce's* penis twitches and he grunts -- 

"Bruce, what --" 

"Watching you. Watching your pleasure..." 

And Lex stares with his lips parted, flush deepening -- 

Bruce darts in and *takes* a kiss -- 

Lex groans and sucks his tongue, clutches his shoulders -- lets go and clutches the bed again. He -- 

Bruce groans and thrusts faster -- 

Lex *shouts* into his mouth -- 

Bruce pulls back. "You'll give me my fantasy, Lex...?" 

"I -- I *want* --" Lex growls and reaches down to grip Bruce's wrist -- "Don't stop --" 

"I won't --" 

"Oh -- fuck --" And Lex grips the mattress *again*, arches and pants -- 

"In the fantasy... you tell me when you need me. When you need *more*." 

Lex groans and bites his lip -- 

Clenches *viciously* hard -- 

They twitch *together* -- 

"*Lex*." 

Lex flexes open and gasps -- 

Gasps again and clenches less *tightly* -- 

"Do I. Bruce -- what *else*?" 

Bruce licks his lips and tries to smell the scent Lex had as a teenager, the *sweet* colognes he had favored -- no. This scent, and his own. *This* cologne, rich with *borrowed* musk -- 

"Bruce. *Please*." 

"Yes. I -- you move. You move for me, Lex." 

"Like." Lex rocks his hips carefully -- 

Winces and groans -- 

"More, Lex. You. I remembered how you *danced* --" 

"Do you have any *idea* how many punishment essays --" Lex moans and laughs -- 

Frowns in concentration -- 

And then begins to grind in sharp, *hot* motions -- 

Dickie can move like -- 

We will not bring him to this bed. 

The Fox shivers inside him. You're right. You're -- show him, Bruce -- 

Bruce looks up from Lex's groin and meets his eyes, shows Lex his *need* -- 

And Lex makes a *choked* sound, shakes his head -- 

"*Please*, Lex --" 

"Fuck -- Bruce --" 

"My -- my *fantasy* --" 

"More -- fuck, I need *more* --" 

Bruce growls and moves his free hand to Lex's hip, grips tightly and *thrusts*, harder and faster with every moment -- 

Lex cries out and curses -- 

Curses more -- 

And then he's crying out for every thrust and moving, *moving* -- 

"*Beautiful* --" 

"Bruce -- fuck, it's not supposed to --" 

"It *is*." 

Lex shouts and *clings* to the mattress -- 

"Lex, I *need* you --" 

"Tell me --" 

"In --" Bruce groans and crooks his fingers -- 

Lex *screams*, brief and *blinding* -- 

"Oh, *Lex* --" 

Lex opens his eyes and stares at nothing -- 

Lex shudders and *twitches* -- 

And Bruce feels the pain of it, the *hunger* of it. Lex is *hot* inside, and the world is cold where he's not being touched, where he's not being *welcomed* -- 

"Bruce, *please* --" 

"In the fantasy -- in the fantasy, there's a moment where I *only* want to use my fingers, where I want the control to be able to give you more and more of the pleasure that makes you *shake* --" 

"Oh -- *no*, I can't -- I won't be able to deal with the *build-up* again --" 

"No. No, I -- the fantasy is a *lie*, Lex --" 

Lex cries out -- 

"I could never imagine your *face*. The -- the wonder and *angry* pleasure --" 

Lex chokes on a laugh -- 

"And not that, either," Bruce says, and smiles helplessly. "Tell *me*, Lex. Tell me you're *ready*." 

"Bruce --" 

"*Slow*, Lex --" 

"I won't be able --" Lex gasps and *sobs*, groans and *growls* -- 

And clenches again -- 

And *again* -- 

"I won't *stop*, Lex --" 

"*Don't* --" 

"Never. I -- never *anymore*." 

And for a moment Lex stares at him with perfect clarity, perfect *understanding* -- 

"You've always made me *feel* like something primitive, Lex, something rough and *unfinished* --" 

Lex shakes his head and cups Bruce's face, opens his mouth -- 

And cries out for the *harder* thrusts, the -- 

This is only preparation for Bruce's *loss* of control -- 

It will *happen* -- 

"Lex, *please* --" 

"*Nnh* -- Bruce. *Now* --" 

Bruce presses on Lex's abdomen and pulls out slowly, *slowly* -- 

"Ah -- *fuck*, Bruce --" 

"*Yes* --" 

"Should I -- on my *knees* --" 

"Do you *want* --" 

"Fuck, *yes* --" 

Bruce growls and fights back a shudder -- 

Another -- 

Bruce pulls out and *bites* Lex's thigh -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

Bruce flips Lex over again, *puts* him on his knees -- 

Lex shakes and beats at the bed with his palm -- 

"So *beautiful* --" 

"*Please* don't sketch me like this, Bruce." 

The Fox -- chortles. 

"Ah... hm." 

Lex snorts and kneels up to brace himself against the headboard -- 

"Oh. This position --" 

"Another fantasy?" 

"Almost. You were..." Bruce shakes his head and presses close -- 

"*Fuck*, you're hard --" 

"You're surprised?" 

"I'm -- I'm not thinking. About anything." 

Bruce hums and licks Lex's throat -- 

Lex shivers. "Bruce --" 

"I doubt that." 

"Don't sketch me *anymore*." 

"Lex --" 

"Come *see* me -- or. Fucking *call* --" 

"All three...?" 

Lex laughs and shivers again, curls his fingers against the headboard and spreads his legs wider -- 

"Oh. Lex..." 

"Don't wait. Don't --" 

"This," Bruce says, and pulls Lex's head back enough that he can kiss him -- and strokes Lex's penis with his slick fingers. 

Lex tenses *immediately* and grunts, pants -- 

Bruce squeezes and slips his tongue deep -- 

Lex begins to shake again, *scratching* at the headboard and panting louder, more *roughly* -- 

Until he's crying out for the strokes and *beating* at the headboard -- 

Bruce pulls back and lets go, pouring copious amounts of the STARslide on himself and considering different formulations, more palatable ones -- 

Thicker? 

Perhaps something with a moisturizer like carrageenan -- 

Brucie. 

I must provide the best, the most *comfortable* -- 

You *must* *give* it to him. And the Fox turns his head -- 

And Lex is tensing, shuddering -- 

The back of his neck is flushed almost *brick* -- 

"Lex. Lex, I want -- I want *more* --" 

Lex gasps *thickly*. "I know." 

"I will settle for your confidence --" 

"The --ah. Sexiest thing about me, Bruce?" 

Bruce hums and makes sure the lubricant is spread all along his length -- and then takes Lex in hand again -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"Your pleasure arouses me more than any other thing about you -- in this moment," Bruce says, and begins to stroke. "In other moments, it is the incandescent flare of your rage, the purse of your lips, the flash of your eyes, the *scalpel* of your *intellect* --" 

"Bruce -- *please* --" 

"Spread yourself for me." 

"*Hnh* -- *fuck* --" 

"Know..." Bruce leans in to breathe hot against Lex's ear. "Know that it is a gift, and will be taken as such." 

"Taken -- you." 

"Do it, Lex. Give me... everything." 

Lex's flush darkens *alarmingly* -- but only to the parts of Bruce still capable of critical thought. The rest of him is only hungry, only *urged* -- 

"*Lex* --" 

Lex grunts and does it, shaking and -- yes, clenching. Bruce can *feel* that on the head of his penis. He -- 

"This feels wonderful --" 

"Push *in* --" 

"-- but you're too tight right now --" 

"Whose *fault* is that --" 

"-- and I will not hurt you so soon. Breathe." 

Lex pants and tosses his head -- 

"My beautiful love. Let me *fill* you --" 

"Bruce --" 

"Let me *in* -- and I will never truly leave --" 

"Fuck *you* --" 

"After. And again, and again -- but give us *this*." 

Lex -- whimpers. And clenches *harder*. 

"What must I do -- no, you told me that already, didn't you?" 

"Yes --" 

"Then this," and Bruce darts in to bite Lex low on his throat. The collars of his shirts and jackets will cover it -- 

"*Bruce* -- " 

Bruce sucks -- 

Lex growls and bucks -- 

He does it again -- 

Bruce *strokes* the pucker of Lex's anus with his penis -- 

"Fuck -- *please* --" 

Bruce bites *harder* -- and Lex flexes open and gasps at once. He -- 

Bruce pushes in, and he's sixteen and dreaming -- 

Seventeen and *wondering* -- 

Eighteen and hurt, so hurt, because there was no way to believe anything but that Lex had murdered his father, and there would be no proof to exonerate *or* condemn -- 

And Lex is panting roughly again, arrhythmic and *harsh* -- 

"I might. I might have called you enemy --" 

"*Nnh* -- *Bruce* --" 

"It isn't *in* me, Lex --" 

"In --" Lex gasps again and hangs his head, shakes and clenches hard enough that they *both* cry out -- 

"This -- I could never imagine *this* --" 

"Bruce -- *more* -- fuck, I can *feel* that there's more --" 

Bruce growls and grips Lex's hips. "Let go." 

Lex stiffens -- but doesn't clench. 

"Let go -- and brace yourself." 

Lex stiffens *harder* -- and shudders, making a small sound which could mean -- 

Anything at all, Brucie, *but* -- 

Yes. "*Pleasure*, Lex. Yours -- and mine." 

Lex slumps for a moment, penis twitching *violently* -- 

Bruce's penis flexes entirely without his permission -- 

"Oh -- please, Bruce --" 

"*Please*." 

Lex jerks and flattens his palms to the headboard, the right sliding and squeaking with sweat -- "Now, do it --" And Lex groans for the feel of being pulled onto Bruce's penis as Bruce pushes *slowly* -- 

Bruce shudders and grips Lex *tighter* -- 

I *don't* think he'll run for it, Brucie -- 

Proper -- proper preparation -- oh, Fox -- 

I know, *believe* me, I know -- and the Fox catches his breath -- 

And Bruce moans for the feel of his scrotum bumping Lex's own, for the feel of Lex's smooth, soft *skin* -- I can't -- 

Oh, Bruce -- 

Just -- even if only for a *moment* -- and Bruce pulls Lex down onto his lap -- 

"*Ahn* --" 

Bruce groans and *clutches* Lex, chest and *hip* -- 

"I'm not your *boy* --" 

"You are my *love*, and I --" Bruce growls and takes Lex's penis in hand again, thrilling for its hardness, the *solidity* of arousal -- 

"You -- you *what* -- " 

"*This*," Bruce says, and rocks in as he strokes down -- 

"*Hnh* --" 

Out and up along the shaft -- 

*In* -- 

Out and *in* -- 

Lex shouts and *shakes* -- 

"*Yes*, Lex --" 

Lex shouts again and *flails*, tensing and *clenching* -- 

They groan *together* -- 

And then Lex reaches up and back, gripping Bruce's head by chin and crown almost as if he wishes to break Bruce's *neck* -- 

"Lex --" 

"Don't *stop*, damn you --" 

"*Lex*, *yes*," and Bruce clutches Lex's hip more tightly, *pulls* him into thrust after thrust -- 

"Hnh -- *hnh* --" 

"I *love* you --" 

Lex *yanks* Bruce's hair -- "Harder --" 

Bruce growls and *complies* -- 

"*No* -- no, *down*. I need --" Lex shakes his head and clenches and *screams* -- 

"*Tell* me, Lex --" 

"Don't -- fuck, please, *hands and knees*!" 

And a part of Bruce only wishes to clutch, to hold him like this and try to *convince* -- 

"*Please*, Bruce. I need --" Lex shudders and *sobs* --" 

"My *love*," and there is no true question, no -- no *ability* to make there *be* a question. He pushes and *moves* Lex, groaning for the feel of himself slipping most of the way out, for the loss of contact -- 

But we can cover him, Brucie. We can give that to both of us -- 

*Yes*, and Bruce does just that, reaching beneath Lex to squeeze and stroke his penis -- 

Lex *bucks* -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"Do it, *do* it --" 

Bruce growls and use his other hand to stroke Lex's abdomen, his chest -- and then he grips Lex's shoulder from the front and holds him *still* -- 

"*Bruce* --" 

"Ask for -- no. *Demand* it." 

"I already *did* --" 

"*Lex*. Everything is *yours*." 

Lex sobs again, shudders within Bruce's grip --

Bruce strokes faster, adding a tease for the slick, dripping head -- "I want you in my *mouth* again -- but not now, Lex. Give me -- give *us* what we want --" 

"Bruce, you -- I *hate* you --" 

Bruce laughs and licks the back of Lex's neck. "I turned you over and over in my head. I've touched your skin thousands of times. I've tasted you *everywhere* in my dreams and I've done it again, and again -- " 

"And you've *fucked* me --" 

"And made love to you. And *taken* you. Make it *real*, Lex!" 

"And you'll raise your -- your *voice* --" Lex shudders again and groans, *scrabbles* at the bed -- "You're *in* me --" 

"Lex. Take my control away. Take it for *yourself*." 

This gasp is *thoughtful*... 

Yeah, Brucie, *wait* for it -- 

Not -- not long -- 

No. And we can handle this. We can -- 

We can *have* this -- this *moment* -- 

And all the other ones, too. *All* -- 

And if I only -- Bruce begins to rock his hips slowly, far more slowly than he's stroking Lex's penis -- 

Far more gently -- 

Lex makes an *outraged* noise -- 

"Lex --" 

"Don't -- don't *tease* --" 

"Take what you *want* --" 

Lex growls and -- "*Fuck* me! Fuck me hard and -- and -- ah, *fuck* --" 

And Bruce will remember *this* rock, this -- 

It's neither slow nor *especially* hard, but it drags the head of Bruce's penis against Lex's prostate -- 

It makes Lex growl and curse -- 

Beat at the bed -- 

And it makes Bruce ache *everywhere* he isn't being touched. It makes Bruce painfully aware of the flesh of his back, and the bottoms of his feet, and his *right* forearm -- hardly touched, at all, even as his right hand is pleasurably slicked and *battered* by Lex's penis, Lex's *erection* -- 

His dripping-hard *dick* -- 

And that -- 

Do we merge, Brucie? Do we become his darlings again? 

I want -- it *pleased* him -- 

And Dick. Twice -- 

For this -- for this we *should* have control. As much as -- 

Lex twitches *powerfully* in Bruce's hand, yells for Bruce's reflexive squeeze -- and begins to work his hips with desperate muscular force, with *learned* grace. There is nothing of instinct to this, nothing which could be termed wholly natural. But -- 

Lex creates *new* nature. Lex cultivates a life -- a world -- in which that which was twisted and *bent* is raised high -- 

And Bruce can't keep himself from clutching more than stroking, can't -- 

"Do -- do you want me to be *still*?" 

"*No*." 

"Bruce --" 

"Every grind. Every *buck*," and Bruce shortens his thrusts and speeds them, *angles* them -- 

"*Unh* -- oh, fuck -- oh, *fuck* --" 

Bruce leans in and licks away fresh sweat, bites and hopes for blood, salt, *iron* -- 

Lex cries out and collapses onto his elbows -- 

Bruce hauls him back *up* -- 

"*Bruce* --!" 

"I *need* you, I -- " And they both shout for Lex's clench -- 

The clench that goes on and *on* -- 

"I can't *wait*," Bruce says, and hopes it's enough of an apology, hopes it's sincere, useful -- 

As needed as *this* thrust -- 

This one which blinds -- 

This one which stutters every rhythm of his body as Lex shouts over and over, as he -- 

"*Fuck* me, *fuck* me --" 

"Lex --" 

"Shut *up* --" 

Bruce gasps a laugh and *nearly* loses his rhythm, the ability to *have* -- "Oh, Lex, do you *like* --" 

"You, Bruce. Only. Only *you* -- " 

"Another. *Gift*," and Bruce strokes Lex faster then -- 

Yeah, yeah, toss him *off* -- 

He gives Lex the *Fox's* rhythm -- 

Lex whimpers and shudders all over, *clenches* -- 

Bruce does not slow and he does not *stop*. Bruce leans in enough to lick away salt and bites the *other* side of Lex's throat -- 

Lex *jerks* -- 

And works his hips in tight, hard, *fast* circles, taking -- taking everything even as he grunts *repeatedly* -- 

"*Yes*, Lex, don't -- *come* for me --" 

Lex's shout sounds *anguished*, and for a moment he seems more pained than pleasured -- 

But then he pushes up on his knees and sits on Bruce -- 

They scream and clutch at each other -- 

And Lex doesn't *stop* screaming until he's already riding Bruce, *taking* Bruce -- 

"I am. I am *consumed* --" 

Lex growls and yanks the hand Bruce had on his shoulder to his mouth, biting down hard on the meat of the thumb and pinching his own nipples -- 

"*Lex*!" 

Riding Bruce *faster* -- 

Do him, Bruce, give him what he *wants* -- 

Oh, Fox, I -- 

He hasn't *called* for me, Brucie -- but he wants what I can give. 

And the Fox is a smile of bone and shadows and *blood* -- 

*Hot* blood, Brucie. *Split the difference*. 

They merge with a *snap*, and it almost seems as though something in their spine is *announcing* it -- 

*Demanding* -- 

"*Lex*. Be *ready*," and they rip their hands away from Lex's mouth and dick -- 

They *grip* his hips -- 

"*Now*," and they *make* Lex ride them, they make it fast and -- 

Not brutal, not -- 

They are not *monsters*. They are only men, and their need is -- 

The sweetness to this -- 

To the way Lex almost seems to be *reaching* for something -- could it be escape from them? 

They clutch Lex more tightly, they -- 

"Lex. *Show* us --" 

"Fuck, *both* -- darlings, you are --" And Lex cries out with desperate pleasure, Lex -- 

His cries *peal* -- 

"*Touch* yourself, Lex --" 

"Because -- you boys can't let *go*, can you?" 

"*Lex*." 

"I don't. I don't want to be *confused* --" 

They growl and pull him into faster thrusts, harder -- 

"Oh, *fuck* -- fuck, give me what I *asked* for --" 

"*Anything* --" 

"So long -- so long as it's this?" 

"*Lex* --" 

And Lex's laugh is breathless, broken in multiple places with moans and grunts -- 

Sharp *cries* -- 

"I just -- oh, sweet -- it *hurts*, darlings --" 

They groan helplessly and move to hug him, to -- 

"No, my *hips* --" 

"Lex --" 

"Make -- make me *take* it, boys -- *ahn* -- perhaps I should've seen the bite -- oh, fuck, keep *fucking*, keep --" 

Their hips know this rhythm. Their body know this pleasure. Their minds -- no. This belongs to them, and not to the others, this -- 

The *flavor* of Lex on their tongue, and the scent of all of them high in their nose. The *crushing* tightness at the base of their spine and then need to flex and keep flexing, keep pushing, keep *fucking* -- 

It's what they all *want*, and for moments like this, the world -- inside and out -- can be as muted and dim and confusing as it wants to be. They are lust and hunger and pleasure, they are the animal within both of the others, and they are *needed* for times -- 

Times like -- 

Lex screams again, screams for just the *touch* of his own hand -- 

"Don't *wait*," they growl, and Lex begins to stroke shakily, hesitantly -- 

He screams for it *anyway* -- 

It's too slow. For all that they want this to last, for all that they wish to *feed* themselves on this freedom -- 

They growl again and let go of Lex's right hip to cover his working hand, twine their fingers together -- 

Lex screams *again* -- the fantasy. The -- 

Yes. 

They *grip* Lex's hand and force him to all but strip himself, to *take* himself -- 

"We would -- we would *watch* you ---" 

"You *can* --" 

"We would reach in and *take* --" 

"D-darlings --" 

"Don't stop. Don't stop and don't *make* us stop, Lex --" 

"I won't. I *can't* --" 

The smile on their face feels shamefully *hard*, something to be hidden or *apologized* for -- 

"*Ahn* -- keep *fucking* me!" 

\-- but never with Lex. Never *again* with Lex, who will demand precisely what he's getting... whether or not it's more than he can take. Right now, they are holding themselves on the edge. They are trembling *thinly*, and that will only increase with every deep thrust -- 

Every *push* into a place which gets more and more raw despite all the lubricant --

More marked, more taken, more *fucked* -- 

But Lex's wail makes something crack and shudder within them, something -- 

The tremble is a *shake* -- 

Lex's wails again, stiffens and loses his rhythm -- 

Giving it back makes them growl and mutter something wordless, something born in the places within them which lack *language* -- 

Lex arches back and *screams*, flushed down his chest and back, oiled with *sweat* -- 

And it's instinct to catch Lex's come in their hand even as they shudder and ache, even as they groan for Lex's vicious clenches, even as they wait their *turn* -- 

They lick their hand and whimper, *hurt* for it -- 

Lex pants and *slumps* -- 

No. More. And they don't know if it's instinct or not to drop them onto their sides -- 

Lex cries out -- 

And does it again when they fold his right leg back over theirs -- 

And again when they *rut*, when they fuck and growl and *rut*, and there is no finesse to this, no -- no gift but that which they've been given -- 

"*Lex* --" 

"Oh, darlings -- my darlings -- make me *scream* again." 

But it's them who do it first, they -- 

Lex is clenching rhythmically, exposing his burgeoning *control*, *working* them as they whimper and gasp -- 

Scream and -- and *reach* -- 

"Darlings. *Come*." 

"*Lex*!" 

Lex's laugh is low and pained and rich, sweetly amused and *hungry* -- "Fill me *up*, darlings. Make me take every. Last. *Drop*." 

The sound they make is closer to a whimper than anything else -- 

And it helps nothing and everything at once to roll Lex down onto his belly, to shove in and *take* his hands -- 

He *shakes* for them -- 

And they shout and scream together for the fuck they all know is too rough, too -- too *impure* -- 

"Oh -- *yes*, darlings, you --" Another scream, then, and -- 

Can they be forgiven, can this -- 

Are they *welcome* once more? 

"You -- fuck, holding me *down* --" 

"We *need* --" 

"You need *me* --" 

"Love. We *love* --" 

"Does it *hurt*, darlings?" 

They open their mouth to answer, but Lex clenches viciously once more -- 

*Holds* himself clenched -- 

They roar then, growling and shouting at once as everything tightens and something nameless and powerful *grips* them -- 

*Shakes* them like a doll -- 

And everything burns away but Lex, the scent-taste-feel of him obliterating sight and sound -- 

They are spasming with it, spilling -- 

It -- it *lasts*, and they can do nothing but shake and gasp, swallow in more, somehow more of the *air* -- 

And then sound slams back for Lex's pained hiss, and they must bring their vision back, their ability -- "Lex..." 

"Hands, darlings. You --" 

They tug their hands away and brace themselves on the sheets instead -- 

And Lex pops a knuckle back into place with a low chuckle. "There." 

"We're sorry --" 

"Shh, darlings. That was part of *my* fantasy," and Lex folds his hands together and rests his cheek on them so that they can see each other. 

"We find ourselves... confused. And perhaps a trifle weirded out." 

Lex snickers for a moment before biting his tongue. "Those words... that voice. Well, darlings, you are chock *full* of surprises and wonders --" 

"Lex --" 

"I dislocate that knuckle all the time, thanks to an ill-advised punch during an ill-advised spar with Mercy. The part where *you* dislocate it while clutching me is thus a relatively *new* addition to the fantasies, but a well-loved one just the same. How are you?" 

"Inclined toward... something." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. "Something not including cuddling, laughter, and interrogatory abortions?" 

They smile, knowing it looks pained on their face -- 

"Darlings, what's wrong?" 

"We feel. We are not enough. For this." 

Lex frowns shrewdly. "You are... too incomplete?" 

"Yes, Lex. The others don't wish for there to be a full... third. We understand this well, and even agree. However... we're somewhat fucked." 

"And not in that -- decidedly -- fun way you just provided. I -- *nnh* --" 

Lex's clench makes them spasm inside -- 

"Oh, darlings --" 

"We can't. We have to go now --" 

And Lex reaches to grip their wrist. "We will discuss the matter." 

"Yes, Lex. We have -- we are love for you." 

"And *others*." 

"Yes, Lex." 

Lex hums. "Go -- and know that I am *quite* fond." 

They lean in and kiss the back of Lex's neck -- 

They separate -- 

And find themselves in in Lex's senior year single at Exeter. Lex is on the bottom bunk reading one of the science texts he'd later -- much later -- confessed to paying for with the money he charged their fellow students for contraband. 

The Fox is nude and looking around eagerly -- 

The Fox is dressed in pale avocado platform boots, brown bellbottoms, and a brown and green paisley blouse. His hair is wild and thick, and there is some sort of medallion -- 

Fox. 

The Fox points to the full-length mirror -- and Bruce is wearing *white* platform boots, black and white leather harlequin pants that seem tight enough to lower his sperm count, a black feather boa, and a great deal of harlequin-style makeup. 

Well -- if the Harlequin in question were a big gay prostitute. 

Fox. 

Hey, *I* didn't put us here. 

Who *did*?" 

Uh... them? The Fox sighs. Too bad we can't take a picture. It would put one hell of a smile on Lexie's face. 

Perhaps... for Halloween. 

*Now* you're talkin'. Go get your afterglow on. I need to check out the rest of the closet. 

Do we... is this place... 

Part of the mansion, yeah. Technically, it was always here. You just used to sheet it off. 

Bruce strokes the sheets, which are lavender silk. The Lex on the bed neither moves nor looks up -- 

I'm pretty sure that's for the best, Brucie. 

Hm. 

And then he pulls himself forward and lifts his head. Lex is resting with his eyes lightly closed. Bruce massages the back of Lex's neck -- 

"Was it harder that time, Bruce...?" 

"No. Though we found ourselves in one of your bedrooms." 

Lex blinks his eyes open. "At Exeter." 

"Yes." 

"You memorized my *rooms*?" 

"Apparently, it was something to do with the time I spent staring at them in crippling confusion." 

Lex snorts -- "Ow. I. So you *do* remember standing in my doorway for ninety minutes while staring at my bed." 

"Why wouldn't I?" 

"Darling, we all assumed you'd gone into a *fugue* state." 

"I had. To some extent. I had to do a great deal of research after taking in your posters, your clothes, your shoes, your music, the scent of cloves, the scent of marijuana... et cetera," and Bruce leans in and kisses the back of Lex's neck again. "Standing there staring seemed like a useful way to begin -- especially since Harvey was at baseball practice." 

"You might have chosen to ask *questions*." 

"I would've asked you 'why,' and then pointed to the room, and then waited impatiently. I knew by then that people had the best luck with asking you *specific* questions, no matter how personal." 

Lex hums. "Very true. I think... shall we spoon?" 

"Should I pull --" 

"Not yet -- assuming you can manage. You still *feel* hard." 

"I am, though not as much. My penis simply needs to be convinced that more is... inadvisable." 

Lex laughs and urges them onto their right sides -- 

Bruce slips out slightly -- 

And Lex pushes back with a grunt. "Oh -- my. I'm going to have to get used to all of that... shifting." 

Bruce smiles. "One does hope." 

"Yes, well, you were *entirely* adequate -- tell me more about my darlings." 

Bruce wraps an arm around Lex's waist and sighs. "They are... missing a great deal of what could make them whole --" 

"I *noticed* that. Why?" 

The Fox rises. "Because if there gets to be a full third -- or a third and a *fourth* -- *we'll* start losing things, Lexie." 

"Hm. I'm not at all sure --" 

"How you feel about *my* dick in your ass. I know, I know. But -- Bruce is too nice for this. You could convince him the wrong *way*." 

"And the right way --" 

"Is *my* way. I..." The Fox shakes his head. "I feel *guilty* for not working to convince Bruce to integrate --" 

"Don't." 

"Lex --" 

"If you're not going to *do* it, there's less than no point in feeling *guilty* about it. It's -- meaningless. Weak." 

The Fox snorts. "Okay, I can see it. I'm *not* doing anything for anyone by moaning about it, you're right." 

Lex nods. "Still -- you feel it would be dangerous to give my darlings further agency." 

"They're not invested in *either* Bruce or me, Lexie. There's no telling what they'll say or do." 

"You can't train them?" 

"We're not *anywhere* when they're in control. They can shove us right to the back of our mind. We feel what they *want* us to feel -- and so far they've been generous, but I don't think they have to be. They can put us to *sleep* -- and we *don't* dream then." 

Lex reaches back and strokes the Fox's thigh. "You're afraid of them." 

"Uh, huh." 

"You don't think keeping them ignorant and enslaved will *make* them rebel?" 

The Fox knows his expression is sour, but -- 

Lex laughs. "You didn't think about that? Or were you doing your damnedest to keep from thinking about it *again*?" 

The Fox blows out a breath. "The latter, natch. Lex -- Brucie and I can meet up and *talk* about things in here. Neither of us have any *idea* how to reach the other guys. I don't know if we *can* exist at the same time --" 

"You can." 

"Lex --" 

"You *can*, Fox. It's -- well, it's a *function* of that particular madness. I *know* Bruce knows." 

I do, Fox. But once there is acknowledgment --

Yeah. "Okay, Bruce says you're right --" 

"But...?" 

"Talking to them? *Will* make them stronger and more real." 

"But you can *overpower* them as -- ah. Fighting them will *also* make them more real." 

"Any kind of acknowledgment at all, dollface. I should know -- that's how *I* got to be so strong." 

Lex hums and strokes a lazy but obviously *exact* pattern on the Fox's thigh. 

The Fox nuzzles one of the bruises on Lex's throat -- 

"I'm invested in -- all of you." 

"I feel comfortable saying that all of us are pretty damned thrilled about that, Lexie." 

"I can't... it's obscene to have a part of you leashed so cripplingly. It's *offensive*." 

The Fox scratches Lex's abdomen -- 

Lex catches the Fox's hand and squeezes hard. "I'm neither joking nor exaggerating for effect." 

"I hear you, Lex. I do. I *know* you just want us to be the happiest -- and freest -- crazy person we can be --" 

"Actualization is for *everyone*." 

"They could wind up rising at the *exact* wrong moment, Lex. While we're talking to Jim Gordon. Or our Dad. Or Harvey. Or -- maybe just while *I'm* in the middle of two dozen heavily-armed gang members with a grudge." 

Lex hisses between his teeth. 

"Yeah. *That*." 

"I -- will think of a way." 

"It's *not* your responsibility --" 

"You're *mine* -- at least in part. That *makes* you my responsibility." 

"I..." 

I don't believe either of us have the wherewithal to talk him out of that particular belief system, Fox. 

Yeah, I guess it *has* been working for him. The Virtues all have shining eyes and glossy *coats* -- 

Fox. 

The Fox mutters bad-naturedly inside. Outside, he licks Lex's throat. "I promise to listen to your suggestions, Lexie." 

"But not to try them... because there are some risks that *aren't* worth it. Yes, I see. We *will* find a way." 

Bruce rises and nuzzles the back of Lex's neck. "I have faith in you --" 

"Have faith in *yourself*." 

"I have the utmost faith in my ability to choose lovers who will make me better than I am." 

Lex blushes -- 

Bruce hums and leans over to kiss his cheek. "I promise I'm not enjoying your autonomic responses overmuch." 

Lex elbows him. 

"Or... at all?" 

Lex snorts and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"Lex... I love you." 

"And I am immensely fond --" Lex growls and elbows Bruce again. "I love you." 

"Thank you. Please don't do that to my bullet wound again." 

"Bullet -- what --" 

"Cain shot me. The armor dispersed the impact well, but I still cracked a rib."

"I thought the tape was for -- *Bruce*!" 

Bruce laughs softly. "It isn't the first time, and it will not be the last --" 

"Pull *out*!" 

"Are you --" 

Lex yanks himself away -- 

*Croaks* -- 

"Mother*fucker* --" 

"Not today --" 

Lex snorts and shudders at once. "How the hell do people put *up* with -- let's go shower." 

"May I --" 

"*No*." 

"-- wash your back?" 

Lex narrows his eyes and glares at him. "Do you expect me to believe that that was what you were going to say?" 

Bruce smiles. "Not in the slightest." 

"Then yes, you may," and Lex moves with *determined* grace off the bed -- 

Shudders again -- and beckons. 

Bruce follows him to the en suite bathroom, waits for Lex to program the shower -- 

And then Lex pushes him against the wall and kisses him *softly* -- 

Strokes over and over the tape -- 

Pulls back -- "Why the hell aren't you taking it *easy*?" 

"You'll note that I'm not in the process of patrolling several hundred miles away." 

"'Taking it easy' does not include lifting me, carrying me, *moving* me --" 

"I beg to differ --" 

Lex growls and *grips* Bruce's penis. 

"I... could beg for other things." 

Lex narrows his eyes. 

"I could start... very, very soon."

Lex *starts* to bite his lip -- but then backs up and growls. "Why the hell didn't you *electrocute* him or something?" 

"The range, terrain, and obstacles were all against it. As it is... I had to force the Fox to bury knives in his torso." 

Lex blinks. "You -- not simple slashes." 

"There was no way to get close enough for that." 

"He -- you surrendered him to the local authorities?" 

"He leapt off a cliff rather than accept capture." 

Lex's jaw drops. 

Bruce closes Lex's mouth for him and smiles ruefully. "The Fox is somewhat... wounded about that. I took more agency in order to... ease things for him." 

Lex winces and *smacks* the wall beside Bruce's head. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- 

"When -- no. Next time, *lead* with that." 

"There were other things to discuss --" 

"*Bruce* --" 

"And I believe you would have felt a certain degree of obligation toward the Fox... which would have done harm to all of us." 

Lex winces more deeply. 

Bruce strokes his cheek. "I did plan to tell you everything about it --" 

"The ubermensch *saved* you, didn't he." 

"No. Cain shot him with a kryptonite bolt when he came close to rescue Cassandra after Cain had shot *her*." 

Lex smiles brightly. "He was perfectly useless?" 

"Lex." 

"Not that I... ah... you had to save him?" 

"Lex." 

"You, perhaps, had to drag him clear as he coughed and shuddered and spat alien blood everywhere?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

Lex raises both -- 

And Bruce pulls him in for a kiss -- 

Lex turns his head. "Make me *happy*!" 

Bruce growls and bites Lex's ear. "He did, indeed, spit a copious amount of blood after being shot. It was entirely disconcerting -- Lex, please stop giggling." 

"You *like* it when I'm happy," and Lex pulls back and grins at him. "It makes me *even more attractive*." 

Bruce licks his teeth -- 

"Which reminds me, you're only allowed to bruise my throat like this *sometimes*." 

"As you say." 

"And -- he didn't follow your orders, did he?" 

"Lex --" 

"If you tell me this, *I'll* re-tape your ribs rather than having *Hope* do it." 

Hm. 

It's a good offer, Brucie. 

Hope is almost certainly more practiced -- 

*Hope* wants to *castrate* us.

I believe she would settle for breaking our humeri, femurs, and pelvis -- 

*Bruce*. 

As you say. Bruce leans in and kisses Lex softly. "After he came up with several ingenious ways to search for Cassandra..." 

Lex scowls -- 

"After he collected me and managed to fly me to the other side of the world in *minutes*..."

Lex narrows his eyes -- 

"After he was so moved by Cassandra's pain that he could *not* bring himself to hang back as I had ordered him to do..." 

Lex growls -- 

And Bruce offers his sharpest smile. 

"You -- clearly don't love me, at all." 

"I'm less than moved by schadenfreude." 

Lex scowls more deeply. "It's a perfectly human emotion." 

"Just so. But you --" 

"Stop telling me I'm great until you plan to come to *heel*!" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow and turns, bracing his palms against the tile and... offering. 

"Oh -- and you absolutely mean that, which is wonderful, but *stop making me calm*!" 

Bruce licks his lips. 

"You're laughing inside, aren't you." 

"Lex --" 

"You and the Fox are *tittering* --" 

"The Fox's laughter is really more of a chuckle. Perhaps the occasional snicker --" And then Bruce is grunting, because Lex is cupping his scrotum and squeezing... rhythmically. "Lex..." 

"You didn't shout my name while you were fucking me. Not *enough*." 

"Perhaps you could give me the opportunity to improve myself." 

Lex sighs and strokes Bruce's cleft with the fingers of his free hand.

*Bruce* sighs and closes his eyes. 

"I really did think that you would have no trouble with Cain." 

"I'm flattered." 

"You... he was that dangerous." 

"His speed was phenomenal. I believe he had been improving himself -- in one way or another -- since you and I were in elementary school." 

"Meaning that *you're* still improving." 

"Every day. When I stop... when I stop, I will know a rather intense degree of terror." 

Lex leans in and kisses the apex of Bruce's spine. "You're stunning, you know." 

Bruce hums. "I always feel that way when my anus is being given a loving touch." 

Lex snorts. "And at no other time?" 

"If you consider the matter --" 

"The dirtiest part of your body, the relative attractiveness of other parts, the fact that I am *moved* -- as it were -- yes, it *does* make sense, Bruce. But you really ought to have better self-esteem than that."

"The Fox does --" 

"I'm not *talking* to the Fox right now." 

Bruce sighs. "Let go?" 

Lex squeezes and strokes one more time and does so -- 

And Bruce turns and smiles ruefully, pushing his wet hair back. "I do, in fact, feel more attractive than I used to. It seems to be a function of my having... aged, internally." 

Lex raises an eyebrow. 

"Yes, it's a curious sort of thing. It's not a priority, however." 

"If you understand the nature of your attractiveness, you can use it as another *weapon*, Bruce. The *Fox* knows that." 

"Very well. But I... Bruce Wayne is not supposed to be armed." 

Lex crosses his arms over his chest. 

"You disagree." 

"Vehemently. You have... you're going to need *every* weapon at your disposal to protect yourself from prying eyes, Bruce. The world you're moving into *demands* that." 

He's got a point, Brucie. Never mind all the other sharks -- we're going head to head with *Janet Drake* sooner rather than later. 

Bruce takes a breath -- and inclines his head. 

Lex blinks. "So quickly?" 

"I can't allow myself to be either dim or sullen anymore, Lex. It -- I wasted too much time." 

Lex closes his eyes for a long moment before reaching up to stroke Bruce's face. "I know nothing about that sort of thing, of course." 

"We are... ourselves." 

"And, perhaps, a *few* other people." 

Bruce turns to kiss Lex's fingertips. "Perhaps." 

Lex -- sighs. "All right, let's get clean. I don't want Cassandra to be able to *smell* all the sex on me if and when she needs me tonight." 

"As you say."


	31. Chapter 31

Prudence wakes them for Cassandra's nightmare -- 

And they find Dick already in with her, a bruise rising on his thigh from what must have been a vicious kick. Still, she is hugging him tightly, so Lex does little more other than to stroke her hair and sign his love for her before backing away again. 

But -- "Dick..." 

Dick looks up and allows Bruce to see his eyes, to see the *hollowness* -- 

Bruce starts to move close -- 

"No, Bruce, not right now." 

"But --" 

"It's not -- um. I was just reading a little, you know?" 

"I can see --" 

"The salt. I -- yeah." Dick smiles ruefully. "Maybe... maybe come see me in an hour or so?" 

Bruce nods and slips out with Lex -- 

"I'll set my alarm to wake you." 

"It's all right. The Fox will wake me." 

Lex laughs softly. "You do realize how *worrying* that is, don't you?" 

Bruce hums noncommittally. 

Lex snorts. "Fine. See if you get any more cuddle from *me*." 

Bruce drops to his knees and lifts his hands in plea --

And Lex -- nearly -- trips on the carpeting. "You -- are the worst man in the world." 

"Hm." 

"I can't believe it's taken me so long to *see* it, really." 

"Perhaps you shouldn't have had all of those psychologists shot." 

Lex *splutters* -- 

And Bruce pulls his face into a tragedy mask -- 

"Oh -- chestnuts roasting on an open *fire*! Get up and come to *bed*!" 

Bruce coughs and does so, following on Lex's heels back to the bed. He rests on his side next to Lex, who sleeps on his back habitually, it seems. 

He pulls himself down into the black with the feel of Lex's skin against his lips -- 

And it seems as though no time at all has passed before the Fox is biting the lobe of his left ear and squeezing his penis. 

Bruce inhales sharply and considers thrusting into the Fox's hand -- 

You'd just wake Lexie. 

Hm. You've decided to continue being a tease. 

I'm just not as *into* incest as you are, Brucie. 

But -- 

Incest *always* wakes you up *fast*. 

Hm. I see. And Bruce kisses Lex's chest lightly and rolls out of bed. He puts on his robe and moves in darkness through the penthouse -- 

Prudence is, indeed, wearing a powder blue teddy as well as a large holster. She salutes him with what certainly seems to be a mug of English Breakfast and bares her teeth-- 

Cassandra is sleeping apparently peacefully --

And Dick is asleep in the large, comfortable-looking chair by the window in his room. It -- 

"Clark," Bruce subvocalizes -- 

And Clark appears on the small balcony, raising his eyebrows. 

"Did you...?" 

"He did not call to me," Clark mouths, slowly and clearly. 

"Did he truly have to?" 

"I made a promise to you. And... there are other promises I have made in my heart." 

Bruce inclines his head -- and presses his palm to the bulletproof and radiation-filtering glass. 

Clark smiles and matches the gesture. "Soon?" 

"Soon." 

"I --" 

Dick mutters in his sleep and shifts, and the book -- Laurence Yep's _Dragonwings_ , an Oldbery Award winner which was almost certainly not in this penthouse last year -- begins to slip from his lap. Bruce catches it and tucks Dick's bookmark in place -- 

And, when he looks up, Clark is gone. 

Not for long if we call him again. Which we *won't*. 

Bruce hums. No. Not until we are in our own home. I simply -- 

Had to check. I know. Dickie *is* close to the window. 

And so beautiful. 

Always. 

Bruce sets the book down on the arm of the chair and lifts Dick into his arms . 

"Mmm?" Dick pats at his face and chest without opening his eyes -- 

Dick smiles and presses close -- 

Dick begins snoring immediately, and so Bruce sits down on the bed and holds him for a time, stroking his hair and back and allowing himself to doze as the Fox examines the boundaries of their mind, seeking the others -- or at least the spaces they inhabit. 

He sinks -- 

He breathes in the scent of Dick's hair and his light sweat -- 

He sinks deeper, and doesn't wake until the Fox strokes a firm line down his spine and gestures within. 

It's not a bed so much as it's a mattress on a floor full of clutter and wisps of dreams. The mattress isn't large enough for the two men on it, but they sleep wound together tightly enough that it almost certainly does not matter. 

The walls of the room they're in are undressed stone -- 

The window is a sketch on an unbroken wall -- 

And the men sleep with deep furrows in their brows. 

Bruce turns to the Fox. Where...?

The Fox brings a finger to his mouth and leads them away again, into the small theater. Onscreen, Alfred is telling the boy Bruce was at four that it's possible to be correct *and* have fun. 

He is repeating that lesson to a six-year-old -- 

A seven-year-old -- 

A *twelve*-year-old -- 

In your dreams, you tried to make it make sense.

I... imagine that worked poorly. 

Heh. *Do* you think it's because Dad never looked all that happy? 

I -- want to deny that. 

I know. *But*. 

Bruce swallows and nods, sitting on the back of the chair nearest to the Fox's. He is the most correct person we know. 

And -- I'm thinking he hasn't been *entirely* happy since his wedding day. If then. 

Bruce closes his eyes -- 

And the Fox cups Bruce's thigh and squeezes. 

I made... I created a Janus. 

Yeah, pretty much. 

He -- they *aren't* us. 

They're kind of... the prototype, maybe? They're *older* than we are, Brucie. 

Bruce opens his eyes and tries to imagine -- 

You were too young to make them right. It's not your fault. 

If Lex were to learn this about them -- 

He'd stop at *nothing* to free them, yeah. But -- there's something else we can do. 

Take them into ourselves. 

Uh, huh. You get the fun one -- 

And you take the correct one. Is it... is it *right*? 

They'd get to be *real*, Brucie. They'd get to be -- they'd never have to be confused by the basic stuff anymore. They'd never have to get shoved into a damned *oubliette*. 

And we would become more. 

The Fox nods. And more whole, for that matter. 

Bruce nods and covers the Fox's hand with his own. And our control? 

Probably shakier for a while... but we *have* people who will teach us how to cope. 

And even they never offered injury. 

Uh, huh. And if we were to merge after...

We would still be... ourselves.

Got it in one.

Bruce takes a deep breath and nods, opening the back of the theater on the oubliette and giving the Janus light, warmth, *softness* --

They wake as one, pushing *hard* -- 

Bruce feels himself being *moved* -- 

Not this time, guys, and the Fox stands and offers his hands -- 

Bruce does the same -- 

And the Janus looks back and forth between them, frowning and frightened -- 

There will be no pain, brothers. 

There won't be any more *forgetting*. 

There will be no more *loss*. 

And you only have to sleep when you *need* it. 

Freedom, brothers. Please. And Bruce and the Fox step closer -- 

And closer -- 

The Janus opens their mouths to speak -- 

But it's air that Bruce can breathe, a flavor of the sweet chocolate Alfred would keep in his pockets -- 

The scent of honeysuckle wound through privet hedges -- 

The drone of bees -- 

The Janus is fading into translucence -- 

Bruce is full, so full -- 

Oh, brother, me, *too* -- 

The Janus does their best to hold *hands* -- 

And they take that, as well -- 

And are immediately rocked by it, slammed to their knees -- 

Don't *stop*, Brucie -- 

He doesn't know *how* to stop, he doesn't -- 

It's impossible, unthinkable -- 

The Fox gasps and falls to the side -- 

Bruce groans and -- 

The Janus is gone. It -- 

They -- 

*He* -- 

Needs. 

He is *on* Fox before he can think, kissing and biting, holding and biting -- 

Bruce -- *Bruce* -- 

We can't be *apart* -- 

No, I -- 

Brother, do you *feel*? 

The Fox groans -- and flips Bruce onto his back, tearing at their clothes until they're naked and raw, panting and *staring* -- 

Stone flows into the theater -- 

Bruce forces it back, forces -- 

The Fox gives them a bed of soft down -- 

Bruce gives them the stars -- 

And they move together, wordless and needy, aching and *raw* -- 

The Fox looks no more pained than Bruce feels, no less in *need* -- and is this what they've become? 

Is this -- 

*Bruce* -- 

*Yes*, Fox -- 

I can't -- I *can't* -- 

Brother, don't *stop* -- 

I *can't*, Bruce! What -- what is -- 

It's who we *are*, Fox -- 

The Fox cries out and thrusts harder, *faster*, and his body is so hard, he is -- 

He's so *tense* in his hunger -- 

Bruce wraps his legs around the Fox's waist -- 

The Fox eyes widen almost *comically* -- 

It's all *right*, Fox -- 

Better -- oh, *God*, Brucie -- 

And the slide of him -- 

The *heat* of sweat and pre-ejaculate -- 

The scent of *their* musk, rising and filling them both -- 

Bruce can't catch his breath, anymore, can't *think* -- 

The Fox's eyes seem so *blue*, and everywhere they're touching is warm --

They are *inside* each other -- 

Bruce -- *Bruce* -- 

My *love* -- 

And the Fox gasps -- 

And Bruce *seizes* -- 

And they shake together, desperate and blind, *lost* to their pleasure -- 

Until the Fox *screams* -- 

And Bruce opens his eyes to find himself *clutching* Dick to his chest -- but neither erect nor... messy. Hm. He eases his grip -- 

Dick mutters and shifts -- but does not wake. 

Bruce regulates his breathing and kisses the top of Dick's head. Fox...? 

Uh. Uh. Can we -- I need -- Jesus, I feel -- 

Bruce sinks in -- and finds the Fox nude on their bed. He's clutching at his face and *shuddering* --

Fox... 

That wasn't supposed to happen, Bruce -- 

Making love? 

*Yes*. I mean -- I mean. The Fox swallows and looks up. You're my *brother*!

Bruce smiles ruefully and strokes the Fox's stubbled cheek. And your lover. 

The Fox groans and puts his face back in his hands. 

Bruce sits beside him. Would you tell me --

I need -- I need to speak to a sane person now.

I -- hm. Shall we wake Dick?

He's too *young* for -- uh. 

Bruce looks at the Fox. 

I can *feel* that, Brucie. 

I was hoping you would. 

I can feel -- this. This *pull* -- 

We must remain together. 

We *will*. We *have* been -- but the pull is telling me that it's not *enough*, Bruce! 

Bruce hums and -- doesn't cup the Fox's knee. Think carefully -- 

I *am* -- 

Do you truly feel as... urged as you felt before? 

I'm not -- I'm not about to throw you to the floor and *fuck* you, if that's what you mean. 

And I... am not about to throw myself in your lap and swallow -- 

"*Bruce*! 

Be easy, brother. The Janus -- we *are* the Janus now. 

The Fox groans. What is that -- it was supposed to make us more *whole*! 

It did. Right now... Bruce licks his lips and smiles. Right now, I have the calm steadiness of the one who *understood* that fun was something as necessary as the rest, that *love* was so necessary. You... 

The Fox shudders again. I have the fucking desperation -- 

The passion -- 

The *hunger* -- 

The *need*, Fox! 

The Fox groans and squeezes his penis with vicious *hope*. It's not -- it's not even that I'm hard -- 

You ache. 

*Yes*. The Janus -- the *correct* one wanted his brother all day *every* day. Even when there *were* others. 

Bruce cups the Fox's shoulder. "I ache as well, brother." 

"But --" 

"The difference is that I know, now, that my aches will be eased, and my thirsts *slaked*." 

The Fox shudders again and stares at his hands -- and then laughs painfully. 

Fox...? 

Once -- and I'm not showing you this memory, because you were actually young enough that no one stopped you from walking into the master bath *while Mom was taking a bubble bath* -- 

Oh. Yes, I can... ah. Perhaps... a synopsis. 

Exactly, and the Fox throws himself back on the bed, planting one foot and letting his knee fall to the side, fanning his leg attractively.

Bruce cups the *cap* of that knee -- 

The Fox shivers and swallows and -- breathes. See, you had a *very* important question. Namely, what was she going to do about getting the right sorts of touches now that you were too big for them. Mom was drunk enough to have forgotten a good chunk of what she'd said to you the other day, and blew the rest off to tease you about having a little brother someday. 

I wanted -- I wanted that very much. 

Almost as much as you wanted an *older* brother -- and don't think they all didn't know it. Anyway, she asked you all these questions about what the younger brother would look like, and *why* you wanted to name him Thomas instead of something better, and what. What would happen if he needed to touch you -- 

*No* -- I. No --

Jesus, no. Not like that, the Fox says, and makes a pushing motion with his hands. She was just -- she was teasing, and being all, what if you found Thomas' touch *bad* but he still *wanted* to touch you. 

Oh... Bruce swallows and frowns. 

Yeah, not actually better. Anyway, you were all set to tell her that you would find him someone *else* to touch -- you even got some of it out -- but she laughed and blew some bubbles at you. And told you that brothers *always* belong together, that it's the most important thing... next to what happens between a son and a *mother*. You'd *have* to stay close to him no matter what... except for when she needed you. 

Bruce takes a deep breath and sighs. And so I made a vow. 

And kept it. 

And when I made the Janus -- 

And us -- 

Bruce nods. Yes, I see. But... how did you *escape* it? 

Heh. You mean *other* than 'temporarily'? 

Fox, I'm so -- 

No. No. It was my idea to merge with those guys, and -- I should've seen it coming, is all, and the Fox scratches at his abdomen, which isn't sticky or stained so much as it's... glistening. 

Bruce reaches out to touch -- 

To *feel* -- 

And the Fox covers his hand. It's gonna be anytime I want it, isn't it.

Barring needs beyond the realm of our mind. 

So maybe I can be calm, too? Maybe. The Fox covers Bruce's hand on his abdomen and laughs. We're *twins* now. 

Yes... 

The Fox shivers -- 

And Bruce shivers, as well. I believe... I believe that all will be well. 

Especially if we wear ourselves out a little *before* we throw ourselves at anyone *but* Kent. 

You could call him -- 

Kal-El, maybe? I can't help thinking that would be encouraging him in some wrong-for-our-ass ways. 

Bruce hums. It seems strange that he can't hear this. 

Heh, wait for the next round of solar flares, Brucie. Who knows *what* he'll be able to do then. 

Oh... yes. 

The Fox snickers and flicks his fingers against Bruce's thigh. Perv. 

As you say. But... my question -- 

You don't know? 

It seems unlikely that you would manage to escape the *curse* of incest in this family solely by gaining so much of Harvey's personhood, Fox. 

Well... it's not just that. You gave me the Harvey who lived in your head when he was fourteen and fifteen. The Harvey you *knew* would never commit incest. Hell, all your fantasies back then started with Harvey saying something like 'but of course we're not *real* brothers.' 

Bruce blinks. I... I remember that. 

Heh. It's completely alien to you now, isn't it. 

Bruce nods somewhat dumbly -- I will never pressure you, Fox. 

Yeah, you will. Because -- 

*Fox* -- 

Because I *need* you now. Like -- things will get *hinky* without you now, brother. So I'm gonna need you to push until I'm over it. Okay? 

Bruce frowns. 

I'm sure. 

And -- will you tell me when you need -- 

You'll know, Brucie. 'cause you'll feel *exactly* the same. 

Bruce feels himself *twitch* -- 

Easy, that was outside, too -- 

Oh -- how? 

I think... The Fox sits up on his elbows and licks his teeth. I think, maybe, we're more connected to everything that makes us... us. I think the other guys were the piece separating us from the real world, or... The Fox shakes his head. I don't think I have the words for it. 

Bruce considers -- hm. 

Yeah? 

Perhaps... perhaps it is a question of how *deeply* we can sink within ourselves. 

We're... shallower? 

I feel as though there's only a thin membrane between this moment you and I are sharing and the beautiful boy on our lap. 

Kinda makes me wonder about the membrane between *us*, Brucie. 

As you say. We will learn. 

Uh, huh -- wait -- 

He's -- 

Waking up. *Heh*. If you don't mind? 

Please do, and Bruce moves off the bed. I'm going back to the solarium to sketch. 

You do that -- and the Fox opens his eyes to find Dickie blinking sleepily at him. He strokes Dickie's nose just to see him wrinkle it -- 

"You came." 

"Was I not supposed to?" 

"No, I." Dick blushes. "I just thought that you'd fall asleep with Lex and stay there. I mean, you *should* be doing that." 

"Lexie would do the same for Cassandra, Dickie --" 

"He's not *fucking* Cassandra." 

"And I'm not fucking *you*... while we're here. But you needed us for something else, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Um. Mostly this," Dickie says, and pushes close again.

The Fox sighs and strokes him. "*Are* you jealous?" 

"I... um. Tried to hear what you were doing with Lex." 

"*All* the bedrooms are soundproofed --" 

"I know -- now." And Dick rubs a cheek warmed by a blush against the Fox's throat. "What did you do?" 

"You want a play-by-play?" 

"No! I mean -- um. Hm." 

The Fox snickers. "Go with the idea that you'll absolutely *get* one if you ask, and *then* make a decision." 

Dickie snickers, too. "Freak." 

"Got it in one, Dickie..."

"I'm." Dickie wraps his arms around the Fox's neck and squeezes. 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm not -- I don't really -- grr, I *hate* not being able to spit things out!" 

"It's okay, Dickie-bird. We've *got* time." 

"I don't want you to ever *worry* about how much time I need you to spend with me --" 

"Every minute is a gift --" 

"And even *gifts* get *old*. I mean -- it's been great with you all over me for the past couple of days, but... it was also really nice with Cassandra today. *Just* her, I mean. And before that with just Timmy." 

"We *will* find you people your own age --" 

"And you *will* give me all the space I need, I know. Just -- *you* have to know that I'll do the same thing. Okay?" 

He is so warm, so -- 

"You know, Dickie, not to sound like a *completely* short-eyed freak of a pervert..." 

Dickie snickers again. "*Yeah*?" 

"You're pretty damned mature for your age." 

Dickie *cackles* -- 

"Yeah, that *does* sound terrible from someone angling to stick his dick up your ass for a *second* time, but it's also true." 

"Mm-hmm, I *know*. Because *my* parents knew how to *raise* a kid," and Dickie sticks his tongue out. 

The Fox catches the tip of it between his fingers and tugs a little -- 

"Blehhh!" 

The Fox snickers a little more and lets go -- 

"Meh. Bleh. You taste like *soap*." 

"I *did* take a shower, Dickie --" 

"Yeah, yeah. *Rinse* better next time. And -- um. Did he enjoy it? What you did?" 

"He did, yeah. It was... well, it was pretty much all Brucie, but sharing that with him was pretty damned sweet." 

"Did he enjoy it like I do?" 

"Nope. He enjoyed it like *Lex* does, which is always a battle when it's not a twisty little game." 

Dickie frowns and nods -- 

So the Fox stage whispers: "I'd be pretty damned *dick*-broken if everybody made love the same way." 

"Dick --" Dickie snorts and swats the Fox's chest. 

"Does that mean I should introduce myself, Dickie-bird?" 

"It *means* -- um. It means that you have to keep being this great." 

The Fox kisses Dickie's temple. "We'll be home this time tomorrow, Dickie..." 

Dickie grunts and *squirms* -- and then moves off the Fox's lap with a sigh. 

"Too much?" 

"I -- we're really not fucking here. Right?" 

The Fox smiles ruefully and nods, chucking Dick under the chin. "I'm sorry to get you wound up like that." 

"It's okay. I've *learned* how to jerk off pretty much anywhere, Fox." 

"Now *that* is a useful skill --" 

"Like *you* didn't do it everywhere when you were my age." 

Bruce rises and laughs. "At your age, I took between two and four brief showers every day at -- mostly -- regular intervals." 

"But -- what about the *sudden* ones?" 

"I learned -- well -- how to safely sprint through a manor house filled with people and staggeringly valuable objets d'art." 

Dick giggles. "Okay, yeah, *stressful*. And -- " Dick stretches and yawns. "Where's my book -- oh, I see it --" 

Bruce catches Dick's shoulder before he can run for the chair again. "You should get more sleep." 

"I --" 

"There *will* be training tomorrow." 

Dick slumps. "Okay, you have to train me *fast* so I can start *doing* things with my nights --" 

"Will you tell me of your tears?" 

"Oh -- *Bruce*!" 

"Please. You need not provide detail." 

Dick reaches up and strokes the back of Bruce's hand, pinches at Bruce's knuckles and scratches at the scars. "Um. My parents are never gonna be in a building this tall. And they won't ever get hugged by Cassandra. And I don't know whether they liked duck or not, and I'll never know. And I'm not -- some other little boy is gonna be flying with Haly's. I mean -- did they tell you?" 

"The Todd family." 

"Uh, huh. We actually met them in the off-season a year ago. The kid -- Jay -- was just *born* to be a showman. I mean, if he ever gets hurt and *can't* fly, he could be the ringmaster anywhere. He's loud, he's a *star*, *and* he's a real cute kid." 

"At that age --" 

"Oh, yeah, he *could've* grown out of it, but I don't think so. His *parents* were gorgeous, too. My Mom caught me looking at his Dad -- just this big guy with strawberry-blond hair and chest hair like *yours* -- and walked me out by my *neck*," Dick says, and snorts. "I wouldn't mind -- I mean. I want to already be past the part where it will hurt too much to see them, Bruce. I want -- I want that to pass *quickly*, you know?" 

Bruce strokes Dick's hair. "If I could take the burden of it from you, I would." 

Dick bites his lip and nods. "I -- I know. So -- anyway. Maybe one day I'll be able to teach Jay a few tricks, hunh?" 

"I believe you will." 

"So that's -- that. And... apparently talking about this wasn't so bad." 

Bruce smiles and leans in to kiss the top of Dick's head. 

"It was even -- better. Damn." 

"Shared pain is lesser pain, Dick." 

"Misery loves *company*, Bruce." 

Bruce hums and kisses Dick again. "That's true, as well... but you could never be so selfish as that." 

"I mean -- I don't *want* people to feel as bad as I do. Then there's no good for *anyone*." 

"So I have found. My love. My beautiful, beloved boy." 

"Sleep?" 

Bruce smiles and nods. 

"Okay. Um. Maybe -- do you think it's okay if I climb in with Cass?" 

"I don't see why it wouldn't be. Though... do try to avoid startling her again." 

Dick snickers and rubs at the foot-shaped bruise on his thigh. "Um. Yeah. I'll call her from the *doorway*." 

"Good thought --" 

"And I'll do that right now because otherwise I'm going to try to blow you and -- yeah," and Dick smiles brilliantly, *ruefully* -- 

And runs. 

Bruce waits for a long moment, giving himself the scent of Dick in this bed -- 

The clear and almost jewel-toned deep blue of the pre-dawn sky -- 

It's a damned pretty place to live. 

And it is not for us. 

Yeah, true. Though it kind of makes me want to do something with the Wayne Enterprises tower.

Bruce blinks and steps off the bed, straightening it reflexively. Your ideas intrigue. 

It's not like there *aren't* massive amounts of space in there. We pull out the ceilings of a few floors -- instant Dick-class gymnasium.

True... but the same would be the case were we to take, say, an abandoned theater for our own. 

It wouldn't be a giant sky-dick, though. 

That... is... true. 

The Fox snickers and pushes him back to Lex's bedroom -- 

And Lex *starts* to wake when Bruce crawls in beside him -- "No." 

"'No'?" 

"No, I'm not... waking up yet." 

"As you say," and Bruce kisses Lex's cheek and settles in to put himself out. 

We'll just ease him into the whole thing -- 

Where we swallowed two of his lovers, Fox...? 

He... might not notice? 

Hm. 

Right away...? 


	32. Chapter 32

"Lex." 

"Put them on." 

"Lex, they're --" 

"Perfectly respectable wingtips. You should *like* them." 

"Lex, they're *indigo*." 

"And they will go *brilliantly* with the suit you'll wear to my press conference to thank the ubermensch for all of his help blah blah *blah*." 

"But -- we just had my measurements taken this *morning* --" 

"Well. Well. I kidnapped and bribed your tailor last week." 

"Lex." 

"I didn't *hurt* him! But you really ought to get one with more of a sense of confidentiality." 

"Hm." 

"Put them on." 

"No." 

"Put them on or I seduce Lois Lane." 

"She doesn't *like* you --" 

"She wears the perfume I sent her *every* day." 

"Hm." 

"Put them on." 

"I really don't think --" 

"Put them on, and I'll forgive you for treating your psyche like an *all you can eat buffet*." 

"I --" 

"I can't *believe* you -- no. Put them on." 

"Lex --" 

"Put them on... and the Fox gets to play with the explosives I accidentally leveled one of my secret labs with." 

Ooh. 

Fox. 

Hey, I didn't ask to be this violent, *Maker*. 

Bruce sighs. And puts on the shoes.


	33. Chapter 33

They get ready to leave after a late lunch involving vast amounts of meats, cheeses, marinated vegetables, and fresh breads. Cassandra hugs them all, waiting patiently for the Fox to rise before offering them a second hug. Dick's hug comes with the small, cloth doll which she folds matter-of-factly and shoves into his pocket. 

Dick looks dismayed by having no gift for her, but inspiration strikes -- 

And he borrows one of Mercy's knives to slice open his finger before offering the knife to Cassandra, who studies Dick's body for a long moment -- 

Dick touches his chest and then her own --

Cassandra cocks her head to the side -- 

Dick twines their fingers together, squeezes, and then touches their chests again -- 

And Cassandra beams and deftly slices open her own finger before pressing it to Dick's. They bleed together happily for precisely thirty seconds before Lex gestures Mercy away -- 

And she returns with a First Aid kit at speed -- 

But not before Cassandra demands that Dick *lick* her finger -- 

And not before Cassandra licks Dick's -- 

And Lex sighs quietly and ruefully. Bruce kisses his mouth with gentle, thorough care before moving to his ear and whispering: "Clark would've mentioned had either of them been ill." 

"I -- suppose that is the truth." Lex scowls blackly. 

Bruce kisses it off his face -- 

Lex scowls again -- 

Bruce leans in -- 

"When are we visiting?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Whenever you'd like. Alfred set aside a bedroom for you which will be large enough for Cassandra." 

Lex nods thoughtfully. "All right. Continue being agreeable." 

Bruce kisses all of Lex's frown lines. 

Twice. 

And then makes love to his mouth for one last minute -- 

Which ends early with the tap of Mercy's well-manicured fingernails on her gun butts. 

Lex pulls back. "It's time for me to begin interviewing for the search committee." 

For a moment, Bruce wonders if LexCorp is about to endow another several scholarships -- but. "Operation Play-date?" 

Lex nods grimly and straightens his tie viciously. "Only the most brilliant, dedicated, and non-threatening will do. There is *no* time to waste." 

"As you say. Do keep us posted on the results." 

"Oh, darling, if you *want* to see me froth at the mouth, just tell me more about your deep, abiding friendship with the ubermensch." 

"The man whose dedication, bravery, and heroism you just spent nearly twenty-five minutes praising?" 

Lex grits his teeth -- 

And Cassandra tears away from Mercy to limp close enough to tug on Lex's jacket. 

"What -- I. I'm all right, Cassandra --" 

Cassandra frowns and tugs *harder*. 

"I'm..." Lex takes a deep breath, releases it, takes another, releases it while obviously counting... and then smiles at Cassandra. "Better?" 

Cassandra smiles. 

Lex reaches to stroke her hair -- and gets his finger sliced. 

Mercy picks Cassandra up by the wrists -- 

"It's all right, Mercy. Put her down." 

"Lex." 

"If she wanted to kill me -- or even maim me -- she would've done so by now," and Lex turns to Cassandra, holds up a finger, and then mimes asking Bruce for *permission* to cut him. 

Bruce mimes giving it -- and gets his finger sliced open. 

Cassandra nods thoughtfully, and blood is shared all around. 

Cassandra insists on Bruce being cut twice, which -- 

Aren't you glad I didn't let you make us *crowded*? 

Increasingly so. 

The dining room is somewhat messy by the time they're finished, and the idea of typing anything for the next several days is making Bruce feel somewhat *queasy* -- 

They leave -- in a taxi, as Dick was good enough to suggest that *he* was anxious about being alone with a Virtue without Lex to ameliorate things... as opposed to the Fox. 

I'm not a coward!

You're a reasonable man with a reasonable appreciation for your own sanity. 

Damned right. Freak. 

Bruce hums and gives himself leave to focus only on Dick for the ride, and on the quiet and mostly nonsensical conversation he has with Cass' doll. His doll, now.

Dick spends the flight in Bruce's lap, which is wonderful -- save for the fact that he spends much of it fast asleep. 

The Fox keeps him from growing *uselessly* erect -- 

And by the time they arrive home, it's time for the Fox to patrol. 

The night is itself, wild and dangerous and full of every sort of dream made flesh -- but Bruce spends the night with his memories and fantasies, studying here and pruning there until he feels like the most *obvious* creature on the planet -- 

Nah, Brucie. The *obvious* ones are the ones who *don't* know themselves. 

It's not that I don't believe you -- 

One sec, and the Fox breaks a man's collarbone for the shrieks which cause the other targets to break cover and run -- 

Two bolos tossed, two dealers down and struggling for just long enough to be knocked unconscious, then trussed up for the police. 

The Fox stretches and flies for the next trouble-spot mentioned on their bike-mounted scanner. Anyway -- you can't beat yourself up for not knowing all of this stuff before. It's *human* to turn away from knowledge like this. 

I still feel -- 

That your brains, education, and all-around awesomeness should've protected you better? 

All right, that sounds... perfectly asinine. 

Heh. 

You've made your point -- 

Not quite, Brucie. Because all that intellect and education *did* protect you. It let you build *me* -- the guy who gets to know everything *and* who has the capacity to cope with it. Some regular Joe Schmoe might've just stuck with repression and occasional bouts of emotional trauma that confused everyone. *You*... are a cut above. 

You're tempting me to snort. 

Just cough it out. You'll be fine. 

Hm.


	34. Chapter 34

The Fox wakes him with his mouth wrapped tightly around the head of Bruce's penis -- 

Don't open your eyes, yet. 

How -- 

We don't *actually* talk with our mouths in here, brother. 

Oh -- oh, yes -- 

We don't do *anything* with our mouths, or our fingers -- 

In -- that *breach* -- 

Or anything but our hot, throbbing *brains*. 

*Fox* -- 

Come for me, brother. You know how much I need it, don't you? 

Yes -- oh, *yes* -- 

Because he can feel it, now, the ache in every inch of his skin, the need for touch -- 

His brother had left him *alone* -- 

You're always alone when you sleep, Brucie... and so am I. 

No more, no *more* -- 

You can't pull me into your dreams, Brucie. I don't *belong* there. Just feel, just *take*, and the Fox swallows him whole and pushes in with *two* fingers -- 

Two *dry* fingers, and the burn is immense -- 

Bruce can feel it sparking all over his *skin* --

He can feel himself sweating -- 

No, leaking -- 

*Salivating* -- 

You can be as wet for me as you *want*, brother -- 

Please -- please let me give you pleasure -- 

And then they simply are on their sides, and Bruce can lick, can nibble at the Fox's foreskin and *tug* --

The Fox scrapes Bruce's shaft with his teeth -- 

They shout for each other -- 

No, that's a scream, but Bruce can't keep himself from pushing in, from *taking* the Fox -- 

Oh, please, oh, *please* -- 

Brother -- 

Lover -- *fuck*, Brucie -- 

Bruce swallows the Fox -- 

The Fox screams again -- and begins to thrust viciously, *violently* -- 

Perhaps -- 

Perhaps there could be blood for this, as well -- 

You dirty fucking *pervert* -- 

And Bruce can only laugh as the Fox takes him higher, as they *drive* themselves on -- 

And on -- 

They crook their fingers at once -- 

They *clutch* at each other -- 

And they groan and curse and promise together as the orgasm shakes them, *takes* them -- 

Shakes -- fucking everything we *are* -- 

It *lasts* -- 

And then it stops, and Bruce is falling back against the pillow with a gasp -- he opens his eyes. 

He can *smell* that Dick was here -- 

The Fox groans and stretches. He left about twenty minutes ago after apologizing for sleeping through -- everything. 

He worked himself very hard last night while we were out -- 

Uh, huh. *And* he hasn't been sleeping enough. Apparently? He's used to getting a two hour nap *every* day. 

*Really*? 

He was raised to the way of the siesta, Brucie. 

We can... hm. If he attends one of the local schools -- 

He won't be able to get his nap out, no. Add that to the training schedule -- 

Yes. We must... we must find a workaround. 

Yeah. If we can teach him to have Cassandra's sleep flexibility... 

That's really quite terrible for a growing child -- 

Or any human, yeah. Damn. We'll think of something. Let's hit it -- we're going back to the manor today. 

Bruce winces and sits up. Yes, I suppose it's time. Will we -- no. We will leave Dick here for this visit. 

Sounds good to me. 

They shower, shave, and dress formally -- the indigo wingtips have migrated all the way to the back of Bruce's closet -- arranging their hair in the same style they've used since they'd first cut it for the Fox's purposes three years ago. It's quite dull, and -- 

The Janus had longer hair. As do you.

Yeah, but *you* can't, Brucie. 

No, I'm aware of that, but... shorter? 

What, like a brush cut?

Bruce pushes his hair back from his forehead with the comb, urging it to stand -- 

We'd look like a *Fed*. 

I think it could be somewhat exciting -- 

And Dick barrels in, leaping into Bruce's arms -- "Good *afternoon*." 

"And to you, my love," Bruce says, and kisses him soundly, deeply -- 

As warmly as possible -- 

And Dick hums into his mouth and nuzzles his freshly-shaven cheeks before pulling back with a grin. "It's gonna *suck* when I'm too big to do this anymore." 

"Hm." 

"Mm?" 

"I don't believe you *will* get too big, Dick. Short of a glandular imbalance or something which vastly increases your density --" 

Dick snorts. "Or, you know, being too *old* for it." 

"Hm. I don't suppose I could convince you to eschew that sort of maturity." 

Dick sticks his tongue out at him. "I'm going to be -- um. *Hardcore*." 

"And not the Boy Wonder...?" 

Dick flexes his small -- but *hard* -- biceps. "I could be the *Man* Wonder." 

"Will I still be able to convince you to wear tight clothing?" 

"You don't try to do that -- *oh*! You've thought up a uniform for me?" 

"I have some thoughts --" 

"*Show* me --" 

"-- that I have not yet had a spare moment to sketch. Outside of my mind, that is. I will do so today while you're conditioning." 

"Okay, but what are you dressed *up* for?" 

"I haven't spoken to Father in some weeks --" 

"*Really*? He lives right *there*! Alfred showed me on the map and everything." 

"Father is a physician --" 

"And a CEO. I *know*. You've still talked to your *mother* a bunch of times." 

Bruce opens his mouth -- and then closes it to smile ruefully. "I've grown accustomed to making excuses for not being closer to Father. Today... today, I hope to begin working to change that." 

Dick nods. "And *he's* not a psycho who wants into your pants?" 

"Not that I've noticed." 

Dick frowns. "Are you sure I shouldn't come with you?" 

God, I love -- 

"We love you, Dick. For -- everything you do and everything you are --" 

"I just wanna *protect* you, Bruce!" 

"I know. But I must have this conversation with Father alone, and I will not leave your side in that house." 

Dick bites his lip -- stops. "Because of *her*." 

"Yes --" 

"But you still love her." 

Bruce smiles ruefully, and listens to the strains of Strauss rising from the ballroom deep within him -- "I always will, Dick. Though I am far less broken to it than I was." 

Dick swallows and nods. "Let's go eat?" 

"As you say." 

After a breakfast of bacon, sausage, grilled tomatoes and onions, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, sourdough toast, milk, and juice, Bruce kisses Dick's forehead and gives him instructions for the use of the weight machine -- including exactly how much he is to rest. 

Bruce drives the Mercedes to Bristol, making it as leisurely a trip as possible. On Fridays, Father mainly sees his older patients, and while his last appointment is at one-thirty, the appointments always runs somewhat late. 

Which is why, when Mother greets him in the foyer at ten minutes to two, Bruce knows there is time to share her tea in the library. 

She pours for him, and Bruce can't help looking for signs of tremor -- 

Stress -- 

Shame, Brucie? 

Oh -- I suppose not. 

Bruce smiles to himself and sips. "How are you, Mother?" 

She rests on the couch with her legs folded beneath her, and her smile is warm shading to hot -- 

And then she blinks and hums. "I'm well, boychik. And you? And your *son*...?" 

Bruce hums in return. "I'm quite well. And Dick is my ward, not my son." 

"And the difference is...?" 

"I can never -- and will never -- take the place of his parents. I will provide him with a home and with every material comfort he could ever need or desire. I will provide him with companionship and love. I will be... I will be his friend." 

Mother raises her eyebrow. 

Bruce smiles and leans back against his end of the couch, crossing his legs. "Much as you were -- and are -- to Harvey." 

Mother lifts her chin and nods thoughtfully. "You've put the family under your microscope." 

"I believe it was time to do just that." 

"And..." Mother narrows her eyes and taps her fingernails against the rim of her cup. "Do you truly have an eidetic memory, Bruce?" 

"Yes. There are many who say such things don't truly exist, and I'm quite sure that I'd like them to keep that opinion. Why do you ask?" 

"How far *back* does it go...?" 

"To the night you decided to wean me." 

Mother inhales sharply -- 

"Before then... before then, there were only flashes and moments of sensation. Warmth and happiness and the scent of milk. The scent of Chanel no. 22." 

Mother closes her eyes for a long moment -- and her hands shake as she sets the cup down. "Bruce..." 

"Mother, look at me, please." 

"I'd rather not." 

"For... for the sake of the love between us, then. Please." 

Mother swallows, straightens her shoulders -- and doesn't turn to face him. "I've decided to take a lover. I've already spoken to your father about it." 

Keep it steady, Brucie -- 

Yes. "That will be... for the best, I believe." 

Mother smiles, and continues not to look at him. "You won't fight that? Not even for your father's sake...?" 

"Would there be any point?" 

She lifts her cup to her lips -- and doesn't sip before she sets it down again. 

She folds her hands on her leanly rounded thigh --

She closes her eyes and lifts her head -- 

"Mother --" 

"How much do you remember about my -- alcoholism?" 

Bruce sets his own cup down and frowns. "It was truly that much of a problem?" 

Mother smiles again -- and opens her eyes. "There was a time when I started the day with gin... and ended the day with gin. It was both delicious and... appealing to the part of me which wished to... rebel." She turns to face him. "I started as soon as I -- well, no. I *tried* to start right after you were born, but your father put his foot down, as I was breastfeeding..." She frowns. "It was what I used to, among other things, ease the *loss* of weaning you." 

Bruce nods. "When did you stop?" 

"When you were six, you began to go to your father with worries about my memory loss... issues. You had read enough of his books that you knew what 'dementia' was." 

"And he... put his foot down again?" 

Mother swallows. "No, not that. He simply asked me if I wanted your fear. That was enough," she says, and reaches out -- 

Bruce takes her hand and strokes her knuckles once. "Do you remember --" 

"Enough, I think. There was a certain... a certain *sick* pleasure in waking up sodden and ill, in filling my mind with memories of your wide blue eyes as you took in my poison like --"

"Mother's milk...?" 

Mother squeezes his hand. "I have never, ever stopped wanting to feed you." 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"Learning that I wanted to feed *from* you... was somewhat traumatic, boychik." 

"Even with everything --" 

"Even then. I was not..." Mother frowns and cocks her head to the side. "Is it wrong that I believe that I was cowardly for not simply taking what you offered so innocently so many times, do you think?" 

Bruce shakes his head. "I... I will never be able to judge that objectively, Mother." 

Mother nods, gaze distant. "I took that ability from you." 

"Yes." 

"Forever...?" 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Perhaps. And perhaps not." 

She squeezes his hand one more time and then pulls back, folding her hands in her lap and adjusting her posture somewhat restlessly -- 

"Is your back --" 

"My skin is crawling, boychik. I believe -- no. I told himself *vehemently* that you were too young to remember all the things I said to you... *I* don't even remember --" Mother shakes her head once. "I told myself that even as I *hoped* you would take the lessons to heart." 

"I did." 

"And there was a time... there was a time when you would've given me anything. Everything." 

"Yes." 

Mother nods thoughtfully. "I believe... I believe I can be grateful for my cowardice to at least a certain extent. Are you, Bruce?" 

"Much of me is, yes." 

Mother smiles, soft mouth *curling* up -- 

"You're also grateful that a part of me regrets not ever having made love with you." 

"I am... human? That's true enough, isn't it?" 

"Mother..." 

"I fell in *love* with you, boychik." 

"Mother. I don't believe you've ever been in love with anyone." 

She stiffens then -- but only for a moment before she smiles and takes another sip of her tea. "Thea's brewing skills have improved dramatically... and I believe there must be room for that which we believe *passionately* about ourselves, Bruce." 

Bruce considers... "You *wanted* to be in love with me." 

"Oh, yes. Can you guess why?" 

"It seems, knowing what I know now, that it would've been another pleasure you could use to punish yourself." 

Mother closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a moment before opening them again and gazing at him with *avid* -- pleasure. "My beautiful, brilliant boy. My *always* passionate boy. There has never, ever been a time when you've been... numb." 

"The same is not the case for you." 

She inclines her head. 

"Mother... I hope you find love." 

"Kind boy --" 

"I hope -- I find that I hope it brings you to your knees." 

Mother gasps then, coloring faintly, beautifully -- 

Bruce stands and bends to kiss her cheek. "I'm going to speak to Father now. Be well, Mother." 

She doesn't speak as he walks out of the library. 

She -- 

I'm here, Brucie. 

You were... quiet. 

Did you need me louder?

Bruce swallows and focuses on walking to the East wing, where both of Father's offices are -- 

Are -- 

Brucie... 

I thought she loved me. 

The Fox is warmth and solidity behind him, arms around his waist -- 

Bruce ducks into the sun room and breathes --

Breathes -- 

It's not that she *doesn't* -- 

She -- cares for me. Desires me. *Covets* me. 

I -- yeah. 

She never wanted to see who I would *become*, Fox. 

As opposed to -- wanting to shape you into something she could use. Yeah. 

I feel. I feel soiled. 

You're not. 

Fox --

You're *not*. What you are... what you are is awake, and aware, and hurting -- people love you. 

*Why* -- 

Because you *aren't* just what she made. Because you could never *be* that -- not really. Because you're good, and kind, and loving. Because you're warm and charming without being a damned *liar*. 

Mother -- my mother doesn't -- 

She's *hollow*, Brucie. She's -- she's missing something. And. The Fox moves in front of Bruce and cups his jaw. You know how that works. Better than I do. 

Do you think... do you think she'll ever... 

I don't know, Brucie. I -- we can't wait for it. 

Bruce covers his face with his hands -- 

The Fox tugs his hands away and squeezes them. 

I. 

It's okay, Brucie. Whatever it is. 

It's only... how could I have been so *blind*? 

*That's* human -- 

Mother -- 

Is a woman with -- a hole in her. 

In her *heart*, Fox. What could have *happened* to her? What could possibly -- 

We may never know. 

I have to -- 

No. 

But -- if there is a way to *fix* -- 

Then she'll still be the woman who never really loved you. 

I have to. I. I love *her* -- 

You always will, and the Fox squeezes his hands. You'll always love *everyone* you've ever loved because -- because there aren't any holes in you, at all. 

Bruce *chokes* on laughter. 

Heh. You *overflow* a little, Brucie. 

Fox --

You kinda... well, you got a little *extra*. 

That's not how it *works*, Fox. 

No...? The Fox grins and *licks* Bruce's knuckles -- 

Oh... 

*I* think it works the way we say it does. 

It's not -- we can't -- 

We *can*. We can -- we can live our *lives*, Brucie. Ours -- and no one else's. 

Bruce closes his eyes -- 

No. 

Bruce opens his eyes and gazes into the Fox's, which are bright and sharp, warm and full, hungry and *wise* -- Brother. 

Brother. You know how this works. 

I... often, repressed and difficult memories and conclusions rise to the surface when the subject feels most... safe. 

Warm. Loved. *Held*. 

Brother -- 

Brucie. Our lives are *fantastic*. 

Dinah -- who had strung a pimp from a lamp post last night with the Fox's name and a Valentine's Day-style 'heart' drawn in permanent marker on his face. For all that they hadn't gotten to *see* her -- 

She was there for us. 

Yes. And Lex, who accepts everything about them and asks for more, *demands* more of everything they can give and offers himself with love and *need* -- 

He'd be on his jet here in an hour if we picked up the phone and asked him to. 

He -- Harvey. Warm and loving, giving and *wise* -- 

The distance isn't far, at all, Brucie. And he'll bridge it in a heartbeat. 

Yes. And Alfred -- 

Putting up with us. Taking care of us. *Protecting* us. 

Clark. 

Kent? Kal-El? Someone like that, anyway. Someone who's been waiting for us for *years*. 

And Dick. 

The love of our lives. 

The... perfect anima -- 

The perfect *boy*. Just the best -- 

Graceful. Fearless. Effusive -- 

Waiting for us. Right there at home where he belongs. 

Bruce breathes deep, shocked for a long moment not to be able to smell Dick, *taste* -- 

We will, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes, I. 

But first -- Dad. 

Bruce stands straight. I am... capable of strength. 

Yep. 

For our loves. For the sake of our beautiful loves -- 

Uh, huh. 

Bruce smiles wryly and strokes the back of a wrought-iron chair. I once would've used my name and family to buoy myself. 

We have a lot more than that now, Brucie. 

Better, Fox. We have... better. 

Heh. Well, *I* wasn't gonna say it -- 

Bruce hums... and continues to Father's medical office. He straightens the books on the shelves and the magazines on the tables, noting that the Foundation's in-house literary journal still figures prominently. 

The few toys are already neat -- and somewhat dusty. It's been quite some time since Father saw patients with young children.

And -- he is finished, and Father's office door is open. Bruce knocks -- 

And Father hums. "You have the same knock you did when you were a child, Bruce. Come in." 

Bruce smiles and walks in. "I've always been a believer in staying true to what works, Father." 

Father looks up from his notes and smiles, the nest of fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening for a moment -- 

He is older every time they see him, and that never stops being a shock, for all that logic demands rather more aplomb. Still, Bruce takes the time to note the encroachment of Father's grey hair, the increased thickness of the lenses in his glasses, the somewhat looser skin on his hands -- 

And Father raises an eyebrow. "Is there a diagnosis, Bruce?" 

Bruce hums. "I believe further study is required. I... I don't believe we speak enough, Father." 

Father frowns slightly. "Is something... no. Please sit down, Bruce." 

"Thank you, Father." Bruce sits, forcing himself not to rest on the edge with his hands on his knees. He is not a child anymore, and -- 

And he is already worrying Father. He leans back and crosses his legs. "How are you, Father?" 

Father looks down -- but only for a moment before he is sitting straight and meeting Bruce's eyes. "I'm well. And you?" 

The same answer as ever -- 

Had it ever been true? Had --

Bruce shakes it off internally. "It's been... an exciting month." 

Father's expression turns wry. "So your Mother has intimated. You might consider sharing your thoughts and plans more often, son." 

"I'm tempted to say something along the lines of events moving at unpredictable speed, but..." 

Father looks at him from over his glasses. 

Bruce laughs softly. "I promise to do better, Father." 

Father nods once and closes the file he was working on, setting it in his inbox and folding his hands on the blotter. "Now, tell me what's wrong." 

Once, the response to that would've been a plea to make the various words in the world smaller and easier to comprehend. 

Another time, it would've been a question about the nature of mud, and *why* it got everywhere even when one tried to be neat. 

Another time, it would've been the nature of loneliness -- 

So *much* loneliness -- 

And why had he ever expected Father to be able to solve *that* equation? 

Bruce frowns and turns away. 

"Bruce, if there's something troubling you that much --"

"Mother --" Bruce shakes his head. "I'm sorry to interrupt." 

Father sits straighter. "Bruce..." He frowns. "You've always been very close to your mother, and that... that is right and proper." 

No, it isn't. "Did you ever --" Notice. Bruce fights not to frown more deeply -- 

"Son, please tell me what's wrong." 

When did you *know* she would never love you? 

Brucie... 

I... I need a moment -- 

Not right now, brother. Here -- 

And the Fox is warmth behind him, solidity and strength -- 

Bruce takes a deep breath and looks up, smiling ruefully. "Please, don't be troubled, Father. I'm afraid that, in some ways, the past two weeks have been rather *too* exciting." 

Father takes a deep -- relieved? -- breath and nods. "How *is* your ward? Richard, is it?" 

Bruce laughs again. "He makes somewhat terrible faces whenever anyone tries to call him Richard, Father. Or, truly, anything but... Dick." 

Father blinks once and makes an obviously Herculean effort not to frown. 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs somewhat harder. 

"Have you... explained... ah." 

"I assure you, Father, he is well aware of... that which there is to be aware of." 

Father coughs into his fist. "Well. He sounds like a high-spirited young man. That sort of thing will help in his time of grief." 

Bruce smiles. "Yes, I believe so. He is... there is much joy in his heart, and even more love. His spirit is unbroken." 

Father hums. "You already care for him deeply." 

"Yes, Father. He had already convinced me to purchase a stake in his circus before the tragedy." 

"He sought you out...?" 

"I looked *precisely* like the overly wealthy tourist I was. I wish... I wish I had had the chance to meet his parents. They seem to have been perfectly wonderful people." 

Father's expression turns thoughtful. "It's an interesting question, isn't it?" 

"Yes, Father?" 

"There is a song -- quite old now -- with the lyric... ah, let me think... 'join the circus like you wanted to, when you were a... child?' 'Kid...?' I'm no longer sure, but the song rather confused me when I was a young man." 

"You could never imagine doing such a thing?" 

"I'm given to understand that the performers in circuses and the like work themselves *viciously* hard in order to achieve the heights of physical perfection required to make their various tricks look simple and even amusing." 

"That does seem to be the case, Father." 

Father nods. "The work... it takes *years* to be able to perform some of those tricks, and then there are the animals to train, and costumes to create and repair, and the countless *other* tasks to do day after day, week after *week*... and all for not very much money, at all." 

Bruce smiles. "Do you practice medicine for the money, Father?" 

"Of course not. I practice medicine for the opportunity to take that which has been broken, or injured, or *hurt* and create wellness -- and even happiness... ah. But it's rather impersonal, don't you think? I mean, does... Dick remember the people whose lives he touched in, say, Central City." 

"I believe there's a certain young woman there he'll remember for quite some time." 

"Now, Bruce, he's much too young for that sort of thing." 

"Agreed," Bruce lies smoothly. "Though I don't plan on explaining my beliefs on that score to him... yet."

Father wags a finger at him. "Your mother says he's already in his teens. There is *no* time like the present, Bruce. *You* were a somewhat staggeringly innocent young man, but you already know that... Dick is not. Additionally, the world is a different place than it was fifteen years ago. Illicit sex is available seemingly everywhere now, *and* I don't see you making plans to move out of the city proper...?" 

Bruce inclines his head. "You're right, of course." 

"Would you like our old books and filmstrips? I saved the ones which stimulated the most conversation, though..." Father laughs softly and rubs at his mustache. "I can't say whether I feel it's taken you boys too long or not long *enough* to need them." 

Remember that look Harvey had on his face when Dad made *him* watch all the filmstrips, Brucie? 

Vividly. It was tempting to sleep on the floor outside of his bedroom that night so that I could catch him if he tried to run away. 

The Fox snickers -- 

And Father smiles brightly. "Now there's a good look on your face. Those *were* good conversations, weren't they?" 

"Very educational, Father. I was... much less confused after them." 

And after Harvey put it all in terms our *body* could understand. 

As you say -- 

"-- young men are confused about these things, Bruce. Every last one of them! Oh, I won't say there aren't some fast fellows out there who know a *little* bit about this, or that, or that other thing, but everyone has at least a *few* questions," and Father looks at him from over his glasses again. "It's your responsibility to answer every last one of... your ward's questions." 

"As you say, Father. I will not let him languish in ignorance." 

Father nods sharply. "Now what about *your* questions? And how *are* you? It can't have been easy to watch those poor people fall." 

"It wasn't, no. I... there is something, Father." 

"*Ask*." 

Will you ever be as happy as you deserve -- 

Maybe not that question, Brucie. 

Yes. "Are you familiar with the Drakes?" 

"Of Drake Industries?" 

"Yes." 

Father frowns. Slightly. "I am, yes." 

Bruce nods. "That does, in fact, answer most of my questions." 

Father's frown grows deeper. "Now, Bruce, I've hardly had the time to get to know them." 

"Do you want to have that time, Father?" 

"It's important not to judge people out of hand, Bruce. I've always tried to teach you that." 

Bruce raises a hand. "You have and you did, Father. However, having met them at the circus and then again when I invited their son to see for himself that Dick was all right..." Bruce shakes his head. "He is being emotionally abused." 

"I... never met them with their son. Timothy, is it?" 

"Yes, Father. Quite a brilliant young man -- of three -- who already has rather deep frown lines and furrows in his brow." 

"That... furrows, you say?" 

"Janet Drake terrifies him. Habitually. He has taught himself an almost robotic degree of politesse in order to please her... I am deeply worried about him." 

Father frowns again. "What do you plan to do? Emotional abuse can often be as terrible -- or more so -- than the physical variety, but it's also immensely difficult to prove. It wasn't Harvey's biological father's years of insults and browbeating which allowed him to be taken away." 

"I am aware of that. But --" 

"Bruce... you and your lover have jumped headfirst into parenting, all without much in the way of consulting with your peers. I can say that confidently about... Lex because the man has bragged of *having* no peers. I *must* recommend that you -- both of you -- do what's necessary to learn how to provide the best possible homes to your children *before* you begin working to take still more children away from *their* parents." 

Bruce frowns, but -- 

You had to see that coming. 

Yes. I... yes. I find myself wondering what Mother would say. 

Probably? Anything to get back in your good graces. 

Bruce takes a deep breath -- and nods. "Sound advice, Father. Though I believe I will be doing what I can to provide a safe space for Tim to *visit*, just the same." 

"Bruce --" 

Bruce holds up a hand and smiles ruefully. "Dick... vastly misses the opportunity to entertain and *bedazzle* younger children." 

Father nods thoughtfully. "The *urge* to perform must, of course, be considered. He had been doing so for quite some time?" 

"Since he was five." 

Father blinks. 

Bruce smiles more broadly. "Before then, he would arrange his toys in a vast oval around his parents' trailer and act as ringmaster, clown, lion-tamer, and, of course, acrobat." 

"How on earth are you planning to keep him *occupied*?" 

"In every safe way I can find. At present, he's finding much to interest him in the various small tricks and obscure points of knowledge I picked up during my travels. He was worried that I would turn out to be... provincial." 

Father chuckles and rubs his mustache. "Well, I'm glad you're seeing *some* use out of all that gallivanting you've done. I don't suppose he's shown any interest in medicine or business?" 

"Neither those nor the other sciences I've brought up, I fear. However, his mother had a degree in mathematics. It's my hope that some degree of interest will flower over time." 

"*Mathematics*. And she joined the *circus*?" 

"With great joy in her heart," Bruce says, and smiles. "While I imagine that there were just as many generally miserable people working and living as part of Haly's Circus as there are -- proportionally -- in the rest of the world... well." 

"You didn't meet *any* of them?" 

"No, Father." 

Father frowns. "Did *you* want to join the circus?" 

Bruce smiles again. "It seemed like a valid lifestyle choice. Though there was a rather extravagantly large -- and lovely -- woman named Annie who illustrated quite well what would happen if I surrendered any further to my love of funnel cake." 

Father wags a finger at him again. "You'll have to make sure your ward eats a *healthy* diet, Bruce. It's very important for children at his emotional and physical developmental stage to pick up good habits." 

"Alfred would not have it any other way, Father." 

Father looks wistful -- but only briefly. "You haven't been making more work for Alfred, have you?" 

"No, Father." 

"He's not such a young man anymore, you know." 

"I believe he would have something to say about that assessment, Father," and Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

"I..." Father chuckles and smiles warmly. "You have so *much* of your mother in you, son." 

She made sure of that -- 

Brucie, watch your *expression* -- 

I -- Bruce smiles weakly -- 

"Bruce...? That's the kind of thing that tends to make you *beam*." 

I was *ignorant*, Father. And so are you. Perhaps? Bruce laughs quietly. "I'm sorry. Mother and I had a slight disagreement."

A shadow flits over Father's eyes -- and passes. He pats the desk in lieu of actually touching Bruce -- 

Brucie -- 

It's not. I know it's not his *fault* -- 

"-- been just a little more tired than usual lately, Bruce. She's been working so hard for the Foundation, and... well. Everyone needs time and space to be a little... a little antisocial, at times." 

Oh, Father... 

I think that's where he's decided to draw the line, Brucie. Where... where he's making his stand. 

But -- 

Defeat with honor. Don't -- don't make him think about what his life really looks like. 

Bruce takes a breath and nods, smiling as ruefully as he can. "You're right, of course. I'm sure... I'm sure it will all be fine... sooner rather than later." 

Father smiles and nods -- and then chuckles. For rather a long time. 

Bruce smiles curiously. "Father...?" 

"Oh, I..." Father clears his throat. "I'm thinking of the day you walked in here -- knocking just the way you always do -- when you were... oh, you couldn't have been more than five. You may have even been *four*..." 

Oh... not this.

Keep it steady, Brucie. 

Yes. Yes, I. I can do this. "What... what did I do?" 

"Well, you climbed right up on that chair, only you were more awkward than you *usually* were, because you wouldn't take your hand out of your pocket." 

Bruce -- doesn't grip at his own thighs -- "Why...?" 

"Well, that's what I wanted to know, so I waited patiently for you to tell me what was on your mind. You just stared at me for a minute. And another minute. And another after *that*." 

Bruce forces a laugh. "I must've been... deeply moved by something." 

Another chuckle. "You certainly were. You see, when I *did* ask you to tell me what you wanted, you pulled your little hand out of your pocket and placed -- carefully -- two wobbly yellow modeling clay rings right on the desk. I asked you what they were. Do you know what you told me?" 

Bruce pretends to a degree of shock, and then lowers his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Wedding rings." 

"*Yes*. And when I asked you *who* you were planning on marrying..." 

"I... I told you that I wanted to marry Mother. That I had come to you for permission to do so, since her father was dead, and thus couldn't be --" 

"*Consulted* with," Father says, and laughs outright. "Oh, Bruce, you were so *solemn* about it. You told me..." And Father pauses then. He -- 

Bruce looks up -- and the shadow is in Father's eyes again. "Father?" 

"You promised you would make her happy every day, even if *you* weren't happy. You promised you wouldn't take her away..." And Father's hands twitch once -- 

He pulls them under the desk -- 

"I suppose... I suppose that's all anyone can ask for," and for a moment Father looks more bleak, more *old* -- 

Help him, Brucie. 

Yes. Bruce laughs as genuinely as he can -- "If I recall correctly, you did a marvelous job of giving me... ah... Freud, as filtered through Ruckus Room." 

Father stares at nothing -- 

"You." Bruce clears his throat. "You praised me, you know." 

"Did I...?" 

Bruce smiles. "For my wisdom and good taste... and ability to leap-frog past several years of emotional development." 

Father coughs into his fist and shudders -- and then pulls on a bright smile, a *brave* smile. "Any child of Martha Kane's would *have* to be rather more advanced than the run of the mill sort of four-year-old." 

"Father." 

"All of those... those cookie-cutter toddlers. Falling in love with their pre-school teachers of all people," and Father's eyes gain a twinkle. "And how many of *them* get homemade jewelry out of it?" 

"Vanishingly few. I believe... I'd planned to acquire a bouquet for Mother, as well." 

"Oh, yes?" 

"I had designs on Wilfred's spider orchids." 

Father raises an eyebrow. "The ones he began keeping far out of your reach after your attempt to make salad with them?" 

Bruce laughs softly. "I will admit to not having *fully* formulated a plan of attack at that point." 

Father sighs sadly. "Great ventures require great and *thorough* plans, son." 

Bruce inclines his head. "As you say. I... I should go. I promised to show Dick some sketching techniques today." 

"An interest in art? Your mother will be thrilled to --" 

"I'm sure she will. Ah -- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." 

Father smiles indulgently. "Your mother was just the same with you, you know. *Greedy* for your time." 

"He is... a truly wonderful young man, Father. I promise to bring him over when he feels... stronger." 

A shrewd look. "But he was strong enough to visit with Lex...?" 

"Rather more with Lex's ward Cassandra. I will *surround* him with children if that's what it takes to make him happy." 

Father nods judiciously. "I will help in any way I can, son. In return, you can encourage Harvey and Gilda to start a family of their own *quickly*. All sorts of birth defects become frighteningly common as the parents age, you know." 

"Yes, Father," Bruce says, and stands, reaching across the desk to shake Father's hand. 

His handshake is firm, warm, sure -- no. 

"Father... I believe I would like a hug." 

Father blinks -- and smiles. "I believe that can be arranged, Bruce." 

They meet to the left of Father's desk, and Bruce is forced to admit, once more, that he's three inches taller and significantly broader than his Father has ever been or will ever be. 

He must admit to being an adult, and to being an adult who lies *habitually* to the most loving and *correct* -- 

Was he ever truly cold, at all? 

Was he ever -- 

Mother, *why* -- 

Brucie, too *tight* -- 

Bruce relaxes his grip immediately -- but Father squeezes him tightly for a long moment, and strokes his back instead of patting or thumping it the way other men might do. 

They pull back together and smile -- 

And Father uses the light from the window to disguise the wetness in his eyes. He -- 

Bruce can allow that, for the sake of --

For the sake of the family Father always wanted to have. 

Bruce dutifully stops to hug Thea and share brief small talk, and then he leaves. 

Fox... 

Brother. 

Is it enough? 

It has to be. And -- we're allowed to be happy even when other people -- good people -- aren't. 

Bruce considers pulling over on the back roads to shake -- but Dick is waiting for him. 

Shaking is better in company, anyway, Brucie. 

As you say.


	35. Chapter 35

Robin's cape has a 'feathered' edge, and that's the only *remotely* bird-like thing about the uniform they'd picked together. Dick sees no problem with that whatsoever, and the Fox -- 

Well, the Fox just likes watching him *fly*.

Red, gold, *and* green, and the Fox had been *waiting* for Dickie to add some blue in there, too -- 

He'd certainly put enough on his parents' trailer -- 

And the roof -- 

And the walls of his bedroom -- 

No blue for the street. Why? Because. That's good enough for the Fox -- especially since it turned out to be *practical* to pour Dickie into a skin-tight kevlar-nomex blend of a bodysuit. Green for his fantastic little sequined domino, gauntlets, belt, boots, and the *inside* of his cape. Red for the outside of his cape and all the little accents on gauntlets and boots. Gold for *all* the rest and Dickie's a star, *the* star, the beautiful and *fabulous* Boy Wonder *right * at his side as they fly for the next hot-spot -- 

And the next after that -- 

And the next after *that*. 

Jimmy was so pissed about Robin officially hitting the streets a few months back that he'd *stopped* drinking -- but Robin hadn't had to save his life more than once to get *that* little hurdle taken care of. 

Besides, these days things are a little tense between Jimmy and his *lovely* not-so-little girl... 

And that maybe has a little something to do with the *natural* redhead kicking and dancing her way through the streets as... Vixen. 

Heh. 

Last night, the Fox had been able to *honestly* tell Jimmy that he'd never so much as shared a zip-strip with the lady in question -- Dickie had only gotten close enough to pluck a few hairs out by the roots before she'd slashed his de-cel line and tumbled over the side of the roof they were on -- but that won't last.

It *can't* last. Some of that's about how life gets a little harder for *every* vigilante whenever some amateur gets him or herself messily killed -- or even just splashily injured. 

Though Canary's been busy *interestingly* often --

The rest of it -- 

The rest is all about the fact that Dickie's been pitching his voice lower and trying to bulk up faster than is -- strictly -- anatomically possible since Vixen had danced across *his* rooftop. 

Barbara Gordon really *isn't* in Dickie's age group -- but neither are any of his *other* lovers. The Fox gave up on judging things like *that*... while John and Mary Grayson were still alive and well.

Right now -- 

*Tonight* -- 

Here and now with Dickie doing a triple somersault silhouetted against the moon like art created by someone the Fox would almost *definitely* be duty-bound to punch *while* perusing his catalog -- 

Yeah. 

They're about twenty-five minutes out from the r-point Canary had picked for them to regroup before they go full-frontal *meanness* on a social club Canary's contacts says is chock full of human traffickers and the heavily-armed muscle the scum don't go anywhere without. Normally, she'd go in without them, but a mission with the JSA -- and a date with Ollie Queen -- had left her throat too fucked to be relied on. 

This, as far as the Fox is concerned, is what friends are for. Especially since Dinah has been *excellent* about providing *Bruce* with a lover the press can titter and squeal about. *That* pisses the big, blond, and *painfully* unoriginal punk out in Star City *right* off --

Though whether that had had anything to do with him picking up a kid of his own... well. Kal's already gotten a look at the kid -- and who knows *what* else -- but Dickie wants his *own* look at the competition, and if it turns out that he also gets a look at the competition's *ass*... 

Score one for age-appropriate behavior. 

All in all, it's a good night in a good *life*. The right people are bleeding, Robin and the Fox are looking *good*, and Bruce is kicking back in their newly ballroom-free library with The Scarlet Pimpernel and an audio track of the many, *many* noises Dickie has made for them over the past eight months. 

What *will* we do for our anniversary, Fox? 

My money's on threesome with Vixen. 

We haven't *met* her yet -- 

Hey, we *have* four months. I've got faith in us. 

Hm. I -- oh. Fox, Ten -- 

O'clock. Yeah. Fuck -- 

The Fox toggles his radio. "Robin, *babycakes*, take point to R-17. I'll meet you ASAP." 

"Anything you *say*, Foxy! Robin out." 

He -- *they* watch him fly, twisting in mid-air, laughing and grinning his head off -- 

And then they follow the flash of purple -- 

The *crack* of a custom whip used as a jump-line, and the skitter and crunch of aging Gotham masonry taking the abuse with its usual *profound* lack of aplomb. He paces her for a block, wondering where she wants to go -- 

*Why* she wants to go there with him -- 

I want. I want to see -- 

I know, Brucie. We'll *both* see. 

They're halfway down Tabitha Row when Selina leaps onto a rooftop more gifted with shadows than any of the others on this street. Still, she turns and coils the whip on one big, gorgeous hip -- and waits for him. 

The Fox makes the jump and tucks his own grapple away. And then -- 

And then they stare at each other. Selina's a little heavier than she was before, but it's *all* muscle. Her hair is slightly longer. Her makeup is perfect. Her mouth -- 

Her mouth has kissed and teased and bitten other men. 

So has theirs. 

They -- 

Brother, let me. 

Yeah. Yeah, I -- I'm here. 

And so am I. Always. And Bruce rises and steps closer, stopping at a distance of three paces and inclining his head. 

Selina nods once. "Bruce, then. I was hoping for that. Come in for a drink?" 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Your base of operations...?" 

"My home... assuming we can come to an understanding." 

"Thank you --" 

"Don't -- not yet. I..." Selina laughs quietly. "You really did a number on me, Bruce." 

"The feeling is mutual, Selina." 

"I wonder... sometimes I wonder how this -- all of this -- would've gone if you'd said my name any of the times I dared you to." 

"I didn't want to --" 

"Ruin the game we were playing -- or the game you were playing with your identities. I get it. All you vigis have a *few* things in common." 

Bruce smiles ruefully. "So I've noticed. I -- I can't come in tonight, Selina." 

"Or any other night...?" 

Bruce steps closer. "I can't... I have no ability to read the future." 

"But...?" 

Bruce reaches to touch her barely-covered cheekbone -- she allows it, and Bruce breathes deeply before dropping his hand to his side once more. "I missed you... I missed you and it was an *ache*. I threw myself into other things which were objectively foolish when not wildly dangerous -- or both -- and still other things which have been... transcendent. I have more and better friends than I've ever had in my life. I have a larger, healthier family. I have lovers who please me and who allow me to please them in turn. None of that would have happened without the brief time you spent in my life, and for all of that -- even the pain -- I must thank you." 

"*But*...?" 

"We are... I do not believe we are for each other, Selina. I believe... I believe that, were we to attempt more than casual friendship, there would only be pain." 

Selina smiles and stares up at the stars. "And not the kind of pain you can thank someone for...?" 

"I don't believe so." 

Selina sighs. "Oh -- Bruce. See, the bitch in me wants to rip you a new one right now. Really lay it all out about what the underground has to say about Robin and the Fox -- how young is he?" 

"Thirteen -- and we have heard *all* of the commentary." 

"How much of it is true?" 

"None -- save for those individuals who mock the Fox for needing a small, teenaged boy to save him. I owe him my life many times over." It's an easy lie to tell. The sort of people who produce that sort of commentary never spare much thought for niceties of consent... or the inevitability of love. 

Selina searches him. "Other boys, Bruce...?" 

There are things she could never forgive -- "None." Tim Drake is a different boy altogether when he joins him and Dick in the gymnasium -- 

When Dick wraps Tim around one of Bruce's legs and carefully-calibrated weights around the other before Bruce does his chin-ups -- 

Tim is still very, very young --

His parents haven't made *enough* mistakes on camera -- 

And Selina is raising an eyebrow. "You're *awfully* serene about the question." 

"Even atrocities can come to seem banal with *enough* repetition." 

Selina makes a face -- and turns away, stroking her whip with the tips of her claws. "I want to be a bitch about it." 

"You are free to do whatever you wish -- within reason." 

"I want -- what would you have *done* with me in your life, Bruce?" 

"Loved you, day and night. And night and day. I would've attempted to seduce you into the life of a vigilante -- a vigilante who occasionally subsidized her activities with objets d'art acquired in non-standard ways from the carelessly wealthy -- but I wouldn't have been especially hurt if I couldn't convince you. We would have had our other times together, and that would've been more than enough -- especially since you would have your other loves, and I would have Black Canary. It -- it would've been *enough*. Or so I believed, until I met Robin, and reconciled with Lex Luthor and Superman, and Canary began to introduce me to the other heroes. My world is larger now. And smaller, too." 

"And you don't need me." 

"Do you... need me?" 

"No," Selina says, and her voice is low and warm, *gently* amused as she turns back to look at him. "I never did." 

Bruce nods. 

"I -- I never *let* myself need you, Bruce. Because..." Selina waves a hand. "The world is full of *disappointing* men, in case you haven't noticed. And there you were, showing every sign of being anything *but* disappointing, making me feel *hope*... and then -- seemingly -- yanking it all away by proving you were, at heart *and* at cock, just another user. A lot more *fun* than most. A lot more *interesting* than most -- but you wouldn't even use my *name*." 

"Selina --"

"No, no, I get your reasons. I've had a lot of time to think and figure out where you were coming from and even a little about what you were thinking when you made me feel that way. You... you were *damned* naïve about this stuff way back when, weren't you?" 

"In some ways... I still am." 

Selina smiles again and turns more fully. "Only *some* ways now, though. Right?" 

Bruce nods once more. 

"You would've given me the keys to the kingdom." 

"Yes." 

"And then we would've crashed and burned spectacularly when you realized that you needed that whole big stack of other people, absolutely none of whom would want to know me from a purple-bordered hole in the ground." 

"Selina --" 

"Or," she says, and *flashes* her teeth. "Maybe I'm projecting. The only thing I like about the vigilante lifestyle is that the men are rarely *boring* fucks and the women know how to throw a *real* punch. We are... not for each other."

Bruce takes a deep breath and gives himself a moment to enjoy the sight of the breeze lifting her thick curls -- "Thank you for allowing us this conversation... and for allowing me my life." 

Selina steps close and strokes Bruce's cheek. "Thank you for being an excellent fuck and good enough man to give a damn even when *everything* -- including me -- was telling you not to," and she smiles sharply. "Now tell me why we aren't playing tag *tonight*." 

The Fox rises. "Human traffickers, kit-cat. I feel the *distinct* urge to spread a little pain-shine. Sure I can't interest you in coming along...?" 

Selina shivers and darts in to *nip* his jaw. "Another time, Foxy," she says, and *struts* for the edge of the roof before pausing with her toes over the edge. "But feel free to be a little *extra* mean for me." 

"Le rowr rowr. *Anything* you say." 

She snorts and leaps -- 

And the Fox chooses not to watch her go before he takes off himself. He's got an r-point to get to -- 

And the two most beautiful birds in the world to watch *fly*. 

end.


End file.
